


Helter Skelter

by Charlatron



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Porn, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Cullenlingus, F/F, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor Being an Asshole, Memory Loss, Multi, Promiscuous Inquisitor, Resting Bitch Face Inquisitor, Sexually Aggressive Cullen, Shameless Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) Being a Jerk, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s), Whats a positive word for slut?, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlatron/pseuds/Charlatron
Summary: This is the story of Inquisitor Olivia Trevelyan, noble lady of Ostwick and cunning rogue, but is she what she seems: A cold-hearted bitch with an unquenchable thirst for meaningless sex, or a deeply damaged individual just waiting for the right person to convince her it's okay to want more.Or...just a bunch of Cullen smut.AMAZING artwork at the end of chapters 9 and 15!





	1. Chapter 1

**Olivia Trevelyan**

 

Olivia Trevelyan was the youngest of two siblings, her twin brother, _Theodore,_ beating her to the draw by just a few minutes. As the youngest of two, and also the only girl, very little was expected of her. So long as she attended her lessons, behaved in public and understood she would eventually be expected to marry whomever her father chose, she was mostly left to her own devices.

 

She went off the rails a little when her mother passed, spending far too much of her fathers _hard earned coin_ on wine and whores. She took whatever she wanted from life, without much thought for the consequence. Some might say she was overcompensating for the loss of a mothers love, but the truth was so much uglier.

 

There were three things she enjoyed in life - which made her feel like she was part of something: fucking, drinking and gambling. One might wonder how a young woman of her stature could get away with such deplorable behaviour, but she was clever about it. She never gave away her true identity, and though her blood-red hair was a dead give away of her family name, this was easily remedied by her collection of high-end wigs.

 

Being the _Herald of Andraste_ , however, made it exceedingly more difficult to achieve anonymity. She still drank, though stopped before she began to slur. She still gambled, though tried not to cheat quite so much. The sex, however, was a little trickier. She tried to ignore the primal need for flesh, but it was just too damn difficult. Her unquenched need was slowly driving her insane and she needed to do something about it before she became so desperate that she jumped in to bed with entirely the wrong person.

 

She and her three companions had agreed to spend the night at the Crossroads after exhausting themselves routing out the rebel apostate's in the Wending Wood. She'd decided almost as soon as she saw him that Whittle would be the one to feed the beast. He was ruggedly handsome and possessed an arrogance which she found incredibly appealing.

 

"It's Whittle, right?" She sauntered over to offer him a drink.

 

"That's right." He stood a little straighter as he accepted the offered alcohol. "And you're the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

 

"Olivia is fine." She not so subtly appraised him from head to toe, an obvious display of her intentions, until he blushed and took a nervous gulp of his ale.

 

"So, can I...help you with something, Olivia?" He elongated her name in a way that made her shudder with anticipation.

 

"Maybe." She sultrily narrowed her eyes. "I actually think I might have dropped something in a cave not far from here. I was going to go take a look, but I probably shouldn't go alone...right?"

 

His face twitched, suppressing a smirk of comprehension. "Absolutely not." He was quick to agree. "But I wouldn't mind watching your back."

 

"I'll bet." She bit her lip and fanned her lashes, before downing the rest of her drink then setting off in to the tunnel, not bothering to wait for him.

 

When she reached the end she turned to face him, eyes ablaze with mischief. "It's just up this hill." She raked her appraising gaze over him again: he looked more than capable of what she so desperately needed.

 

She made sure he had a choice view of her tight-leather clad rear as she sauntered up the hill ahead of him. The cave in question was warm and inviting, the fire rune erected by some now absent rebel apostate still burning strong. As she reached the centre of the cave, she turned to face her prey head on.

 

"So." She announced, apologetically, placing both hands on his chest. "I may have told you a little fib earlier."

 

"And why would you do that?" He grinned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as he slid his other hand around her hip and on to the small of her back.

 

"Because I wanted to get you alone." She purred, taking off his hat and tossing it to the ground.

 

"And what reason could you possibly have for wanting to be alone with me?" He feigned confusion, their noses almost touching.

 

"Well, I was rather hoping you'd fuck me up against that wall there." She innocently motioned towards the smooth stone beside them, the angelic look on her face a stark contrast to her rather indecent vocabulary.

 

His pupils grew wide with arousal, clearly not opposed to her forwardness. He gave the wall a long contemplative look, teasing her, before answering. "I think I could manage that."

 

They were suddenly a mass of grasping hands and impatient kisses, as they raced to undress each other. As soon as she had one leg free of her trousers, he grabbed her by the arse and hiked her up off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked her over to the smoothest part of the stone, pinning her against the wall as he ravished every reachable area of bare flesh with tongue and teeth.

 

Legs locked firmly around his hips, she clung to his shoulders to steady herself, freeing his hands up to do as he pleased. He braced himself on the wall behind her with one hand and lined himself up with the other, swearing as he slowly slipped inside.

 

With their upper torso's pressed tightly together, he moved his hips to deliver strong slow thrusts, the angle running his length along her outer nerves with each slide. He may not have been the girthiest she'd ever had, but his length was perfect for this particular position.

 

When her nails began to gouge painful crescent shapes in to his shoulders in a bid to hold herself up, he hooked his arms under her knees to bear more of her weight, opening her up a little more in the process. They both moaned, loudly, as he hit a spot deep within causing her walls to contract around him.

 

She gasped, excitedly, when he dropped her legs and span her around, pressing her chest to the wall but pulling her hips towards him just enough to slip a hand between her thighs, as he effortlessly thrust back in to her from behind.

 

She moaned as he forcefully filled her over and over while his fingers played a perfect tune on her tiny bundle of nerves. As she loudly cursed through her own release, he thrust a few more times then quickly pulled away to spill himself on the stone.

 

He pressed his whole body against her, catching his breath for a moment, before spinning her to face him. When he tried to kiss her, she discreetly turned her head to give him access to her neck; now that she'd received the orgasm she'd been craving, there was really no need for any of that nonsense.

 

"I should get back." She contentedly sighed, before gently pushing him away and began gathering her clothes.

 

"Wait, uh, will I...see you again?" He stuttered as they both re-dressed.

 

"Maybe." She shrugged, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before disappearing in to the night.

 

* * *

 

  **Cullen Rutherford**

 

Cullen Rutherford was a simple man, or so he would have people believe. He dedicated himself to a life of service and sacrifice - a decision he made as a youngster, and not one that he regretted. It was...unfortunate, that as he grew he discovered a profound craving for the female form.

 

As a Templar - although under the right circumstances it was allowed - he had decided he would never take a wife or have a family of his own. But after his first sexual encounter – a _welcome_ _to_ _Kirkwall_ gift from his comrades – he quickly decided it was something he simply could not live without.

 

He soon realised he had the perfect cover for no-strings sex. He would play the innocent Chantry boy, let the women come to him – which they did in droves. He would tell them how special they were; how, in another life, he could see himself really falling for them. It was only a matter of time before they insisted on showing him a good time with no future expectations. And whenever that failed, there was always the brothel.

 

After agreeing to leave the Order behind, he had to change his story a little. This time, instead of a Templar, he was the sodding Commander of the Inquisition! He simply didn't have time for anything serious. But even so, his handsome face had the women begging for just one night with him; one night to take his mind off his responsibilities and help him to relax. It wasn't even a challenge.

 

They'd been stationed at Haven for a few weeks, when he was approached by not one but two tavern wenches. Occasionally he would stumble upon a woman who knew exactly what game he was playing, and simply didn't care. These two were exactly that.

 

The women were complete opposites, catering to his every desire. One had obscenely mouth-watering curves while the other was astonishingly petite, weighing next to nothing. The curvy one had a mass of dark curls and chocolate brown skin, while the slender one was as pale as a porcelain doll, with long blond hair. The blond was better with her mouth while he preferred the feel of the brunettes sheath, but he let them both have their fill.

 

They seemed to enjoy pleasuring each other just as much - if not more - as they did him. Still recovering from their last round, he watched them tangled together on the floor of his tent, stroking himself until he was fully hard. He re-joined them as soon as he was able, repeatedly switching from one to the other, watching as they moaned in to each others mouths as they took turns fucking him.

 

Eventually the blonde coaxed the brunette on to all fours and began playing with her arse, sliding one, then two, then three fingers in until she was loose enough to take him. He cursed when she took him in her mouth, coating him in an obscene amount of saliva, before guiding him in to the brunettes rear.

 

As soon as he established a rhythm, the blond positioned herself in front of them to have her own arsehole toyed with. He let out a unrestrained growl as he watched the woman he was fucking lick the others tight ring. She reached back, clutching the back of the brunettes head to push her tongue in deeper.

 

“My turn.” The blond eventually demanded, and he wasted no time in switching from one to the other. This one he took missionary, so the brunette could sit on her face.

 

They were a pair of desire demons. They kept him up all night and in to the early hours, satisfied with pleasuring each other each time he needed a moment to recover. He was sore the next morning, but thoroughly satisfied, and even more so when the two woman acted as though the night had never transpired; the only proof being the pungent smell of sex which lingered in his tent. He had a clear head for at least a week before his hunger inevitably resurfaced.

 

He was actually mid-coitus when the sodding Temple of Sacred Ashes blew up, and he blamed said ejaculatory interruption entirely for snapping at the then prisoner (now Herald) when they first met on the battlefield. She was unfortunately the type of woman who valued first impressions, and seemed to be giving him a hard time at every available opportunity. Under any other circumstances he would try to flirt his way in to her good graces, but he got the distinct impression she would be immune to his charms.

 

It did not help matters that she had an arse he couldn't stop staring at.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Mage's or Templar's?**

 

They'd been arguing for what felt like hours over which group to approach for aid. Leliana felt the mage's needed their help just as much as the Inquisition needed theirs and Cullen insisted the Templar's were the only viable option.

 

"Careful Commander, your Templar is showing."

 

"Yes of course: I was once a Templar therefore I hate mage's. Very original, Herald."

 

 _This fucking man._ Honestly, if he wasn't so pretty she'd have insisted Cassandra have him replaced weeks ago.

 

"Make whatever presumptions you like about me, but you know the Templar's are the safer option. The mage's are far too eager to retain their freedom and that makes them dangerous."

 

"I still don't understand why it has to be either or."

 

"You honestly think either of them would consider meeting with us if they knew we were also in talks with the other?"

 

"So we'll take a page out of Varric's book and spin them a story. We'll tell the mage's we're leashing the Templar's and the Templar's that we're conscripting the mage's."

 

"You don't think they might notice when they both arrive here as our allies?"

 

"I'm sure we'll think of something."

 

He turned to the other three in the room, who had so far been silent observers of this heated exchange. "Ladies, please, weigh in any time."

 

"I think she's right." Cassandra apparently had her back.

 

"What!? You're not actually serious?"

 

"Approaching one group does not guarantee their aid. At least this way we have twice the chance of gaining the support we so desperately need. And if they do both agree to help, it's like the Herald said...we'll think of something."

 

“We don't have the manpower to take on both groups. Approaching just one of them is going to be a strain on our resources as it is.”

 

“I'm afraid he's right.” Josephine piped up. ”In our current state it would be quite impossible to split our forces.”

 

“Then who do we choose?” Leliana exasperated.

 

“Redcliffe castle is near impenetrable." Cullen annoyingly repeated for the twelfth time. "It's a suicide mission and we cannot afford to lose our only way of closing rifts. I wont allow it.”

 

Olivia inhaled in mock amazement. “Your impression of my father is _faultless_.”

 

“Oh, grow up.” He scolded.

 

“Wow.” She began a slow round of applause. “Seriously, you should consider a career change.”

 

She laughed, excessively, when he crossed his arms and let loose a frustrated growl. He waited impatiently for her to compose herself, which was hard done when the other women in the room were obviously trying to stifle their own laughter, until he'd clearly had enough and made the grave mistake of crossing a line that ought not be crossed.

 

“I shouldn't be surprised that you have daddy issues, it's actually rather clichéd.”

 

“Who the fuck..?” She took a step towards him, a menacing snarl on her face and her right hand curled in to a tight fist. But then gentle fingers touched her arm and Josephine's imploring smile neutralised the acidic venom that had gathered on her tongue.

 

This woman's calming influence was the stuff of legend.

 

She shot him one last scathing look then stepped back to her previous position beside the war table. The room was ominously silent for a moment too long, until Josephine suggested they call it a day.

 

“That's a wonderful idea, Josephine; particularly as I suddenly find myself in need of a stiff drink.” She moodily sassed.

 

“Nothing new there.” Cullen mumbled to himself.

 

“Do not test me, Templar!” She roared as she slammed a fist in to the war table.

 

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they watched the pair stare each other down.

 

“Oh this is ridiculous.” Cullen wisely backed down. “Come find me when you're ready to talk strategy.” And off he stormed, leaving the women to breath a collective sigh of relief.

 

“I'm aware that I don't always make the best first impression, believe me, but what exactly does he have against me?”

 

Leliana laughed. “He asked me the exact same question about you, just yesterday.”

 

Well, that was surprising.

 

She thought back to their first unofficial introduction within the ruined temple of sacred ashes. She remembered being impressed with his combat prowess and then he'd gone and made some snarky comment. She'd been willing to let it slide, to put it down to the stress of battle, but then he'd near enough carried an injured man from the field; proving he was just being a dick to her.

 

The second time they spoke, he'd actually said he was pleased she'd survived, and so despite her usual harsh judgement of people she'd decided to give him another chance. But he just seemed so absolutely intent on disagreeing with her at every given opportunity. She was trying so hard not to let her opinions get in the way of making use of him, but then he goes and refers to her as their _only means of closing rifts -_ as though that was the only thing she'd brought to the table; effectively shitting on all the good they'd done cleaning up the mess that was the Hinterlands.

 

Even more infuriating was the fact that, ever since she'd spied him training shirtless, she couldn't stop picturing him naked! It also did not help matters that, according to word around camp, he was apparently just as much of an insatiable nymph as she.

 

* * *

 

**Victory**

 

She was happily minding her own business, watching but detached from the celebrations, when the annoying Commander caught her attention.

 

"Herald, do you have a moment?"

 

She rolled her eyes, not even attempting to be discreet.

 

“I'll make it quick, I promise.” She'd half expected him to snap at her, but instead he was almost smiling. It was...unsettling.

 

She hopped down off the bar, where she'd been perched, and sauntered out the door to give him exactly two minutes of her time.

 

“I think you and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

 

She narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. “Did Lelianna put you up to this?”

 

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

 

She let out a dry chuckle. “She might have suggested I say the same thing to you...only I told her to go fuck herself.”

 

He actually laughed at that. “Look, I can see you've made friends here; which means you can't be all bad."

 

"Thanks." She flatly retorted. 

 

"I don't think either of us made a good first impression, but despite my reservations you have successfully managed to close the breach. Do you think we might be able to start over?”

 

"I'm sorry, was that...actual approval?"

 

"That smile makes you look like a lunatic, you know."

 

It was a pretty insane grin to be fare, considering her usual face made people think she was pissed off about something. She decided to reward him with a laugh for his comment - she blamed it on the extra mug of ale she'd allowed herself for a job well done.

 

"So...how do you plan to celebrate your victory?"

 

She tilted her head then looked him up and down. "If there's any truth to the rumours, I'd say the same way you intend to."

 

"I have no idea what you mean." He smirked.

 

She laughed, melodiously. "Okay. Well, whatever you decide to do, have your fill. The Inquisition needs you at your best, Commander."

 

* * *

 

**Well, shit.**

 

Cold. So cold.

 

Her hand hurt so bad she had to seriously resist the urge to hack the bastard off, not to mention the fractured ribs and dislocated shoulder she'd undoubtedly sustained.

 

She just needed to rest her eyes for a moment.

 

She awoke with a violent start, reigniting the pain in her ribs, having realised she'd been having _that_ dream again. She tried to shake off the memory as she slowly made sense of her surroundings.

 

She was in some kind of tunnel or mine shaft. Haven. Corypheus. The dragon! She needed to keep moving before she became completely crippled by hypothermia.

 

She eventually found her way out, after the mark seemed to take complete control of her hand and sucked some demons in to a temporary rift she'd apparently opened herself.

 

That would be useful...if she survived.

 

She was almost grateful to the cold for numbing the pain of her shoulder. She should probably try to pop it back in to place, but she worried she'd pass out from the agony and those distant wolves she'd been hearing would finally make a meal of her.

 

So on she stumbled, following the signs of recent travel, until she eventually saw lights. Gloriously inviting campfire lights.

 

She fell to her knees, completely incapable of moving another step. She heard familiar voices before she was lifted from the snow. She distinctly remembered the feel of fur against her cheek, but nothing else before she ultimately passed out.

 

* * *

 

 **Skyhold**  

 

How Solas really knew of this place, she had a feeling she'd never truly know. It was massive! And completely theirs for the taking.

 

The surprises didn't stop there however. Some bright spark had decided she should be named Inquisitor! She'd joked with Bull about it back in Haven: that since the mark tied her to the cause she was stuck here anyway. She didn't actually think it would happen though.

 

At least one thing remained a constant: the Commander was still intent on blowing hot and cold. First he seemed sincerely remorseful for having agreed to let her stay behind to distract the dragon - she'd even go as far as to say he looked nervously uncomfortable; which she'd learned long ago was a sign of repressed sexual attraction - but then he goes and kicks up a fuss about her decision to construct a mage tower. _He_ wanted it to house the few Templar's that had joined the cause. However, _she_ felt that as their mage allies were of far greater number, and needed a more permanent place to stay, it just made more sense. Was he truly so biased to be able to see the logic in her decision?

 

Once again, an infuriating encounter with the Commander had directed her to the tavern in search of some carnal release. Lucky for her, a large contingent of soldiers were due to head out to the Storm Coast the very next day; so there were plenty of viable options. Instead of a nameless soldier, however, she found herself being chatted up by none other than Marian Hawke. She was a very impressive woman, and as much as she tried to tell herself it was a bad idea, she wanted her.

 

She had always likened selecting someone to share her bed with (not that she ever actually used her own bed) to a lion hunting it's prey. Once the choice was made, very little could sway her from chasing down that individual (or individuals, in some cases).

 

She resisted for as long as she was able, until Hawke uttered those magic words _just this once_ , and the logical part of her brain switched off.

 

They stumbled up to the attic, where she promptly asked Cole to make himself scarce, and before she knew it she was being eaten out by the Champion of Kirkwall. 

 

She didn't know exactly how long they were in that Attic together, but it was apparently long enough that Josephine had people looking for her. It was the Commander who found them: she sat bare-arsed on a barrel with her hand in Hawke's pants and a tit in her mouth.

 

She had a feeling he'd been stood there for a while before he'd eventually cleared his throat, and as if they'd both been caught numerous times before they hardly even reacted to his presence.

 

"What is it Commander? As you can see I'm a little busy."

 

"Yes I see that." Most people in his position would be a blushing, stuttering mess right about now, but he obviously wasn't seeing anything he hadn't seen before. "Josephine is looking for you. Something about uniforms for the Winter -"

 

"I told her no uniforms!" She loudly interrupted.

 

"Shall I...pass on that message?"

 

"No." She sighed, irritably, before turning to Hawke. "I'm sorry. This was fun, but I really need to go have a talk with our Lady Ambassador."

 

"Of course." Hawke pulled her close and delivered a heated kiss, which only ended when Cullen cleared his throat again. "I'll see you in Crestwood, Inquisitor."

 

She turned back towards Cullen with an impatient look on her face. "Could you turn around?"

 

"What more could I possibly see?" He laughed to himself.

 

 _Fine._ She hopped off the barrel then made an exaggerated show of bending right over to pick up her pants. There was no way he didn't see every little bit of her. He did at least look a little flushed when she waltzed passed him to descend the stairs. 

 

"You coming?" She grinned, deviously, as she looked to Hawke then back at Cullen. "Or did you want to stay?"

 

She didn't wait for his answer, but did not miss the look he gave Hawke; as if to say _what do you think?_

 

She never did find out if anything happened between them.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor makes a new best friend.

**BFF's**

 

Lost in her own thoughts, questioning every decision she'd ever made in her life and how different things could have been, it took a while to notice the immaculately manicured hand waving in front of her face.

 

“Thedas to the Lady Inquisitor...anyone home?”

 

“Sorry!” She startled, shaking her head and blinking a few times. “I was miles away.”

 

“Contemplating life's big questions?” Dorian japed.

 

“Something like that.” She chuckled. “Care to join me?”

 

“Depends...what are we drinking?”

 

“You are in luck, my fine Tevinter friend. I just popped the cork on my last bottle of Agregio.”

 

“Say no more, I'm in.” He slid on to the bench beside her. “What's the occasion?”

 

She laughed, nervously. “Actually...it's my birthday.”

 

“This is a travesty!” He exclaimed, clearly appalled. “Why are you drinking alone? Where are your legions of adoring fans?”

 

“Don't.” She grumbled.

 

“Oh, I see. You were wallowing.” He concluded, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Is it a _big_ birthday, per chance?”

 

She chuckled, genuinely this time. “Hardly. I'm just...wondering what terrible thing I did to deserve all this.”

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Fair enough. Shall we drink instead, then?”

 

By the time the agregio ran dry, Dorian was much more amenable to drinking _the swill_ , - as he called it – that they served at The Heralds Rest. They drank A LOT. So much in fact that neither of them were capable of holding a thought.

 

“You are exceedingly handsome, you know.” She slurred, grasping his chin and turning his face from side to side.

 

“There are few as handsome as I.” He agreed with a smug grin. “Though if this is a come on...”

 

“I'm an appendage short of your usual type?” She quickly interrupted. “I was just making an observation.”

 

“Ah, well in that case: I too have made a similar observation.” He flirtatiously tucked a loose lock of blood-red hair behind her ear. “You are quite striking, Inquisitor.”

 

“Have you ever kissed a woman, Dorian?” She cheekily asked.

 

“Have you?” He retorted.

 

“Plenty.”

 

He exhaled, loudly. “No. I have not.” He admitted. “I was never confused by my sexuality, nor was I ever in denial. But...”

 

“But?” She eagerly probed, turning fully to face him.

 

“Mildly curious, perhaps?” He uncertainly confessed.

 

She gasped, dramatically. “Well you know what they say about curiosity.” She weighted her statement with a mock seriousness. For the life of her though, she couldn't actually remember the saying. “Something about cats?” She asked herself. “Whatever. The point is, denying your curiosity could be detrimental to your health.”

 

“And would I be right in assuming that you'd be willing to _help me out_?” He asked, a little sarcastically.

 

“What can I say. I'm a helper.” She flashed her perfect teeth, fluttering her lashes.

 

“Fine.” He reluctantly submitted. “Come here, then...but mind the stache!”

 

She yelped with excitement, scooting closer. “Should I...?” She was unsure what to do with her hands.

 

“Oh, for the love of...” He slid his fingers in to her hair and pulled her in to a slightly awkward, though not entirely unpleasant, exploratory kiss. His lips were exquisitely soft and his moustache tickled in a rather pleasant way.

 

When they eventually broke apart, she watched as he examined every inch of her face before settling his gaze on her lips.

 

“Well?” She nervously asked.

 

“I've had worse.” He teased.

 

She smacked him on the chest, pretending to be insulted.

 

He sighed. “If only you had a penis.”

 

“You do know I have a twin brother?”

 

“Don't tease me, Inquisitor!”

 

“I'm serious. Pretty sure he'd love you, too. Neither of us are particularly picky when it comes to genitals.”

 

“Oh, I like you." He chuckled. "You're a lot nicer than I expected, you know.”

 

"How so?"

 

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you have the face of a stone cold bitch."

 

Laughter was the last thing she remembered before waking up the next morning. She groaned at the throbbing pain in her head as the bright sunlight streaming through the giant balcony doors fully roused her from sleep. She reached blindly towards the bedside table, praying she'd had the good sense to leave herself a cup of water. For some reason though, she was on the wrong side of the bed; and instead of hitting wood she felt something soft and warm. She tried desperately to recall the events of the previous night, unsure if she really wanted to know who she was currently sharing her bed with.

 

_Please don't be someone important, please don't be someone important, please don't be someone important._

 

Face half buried in her pillow, she slowly opened one eye to find a naked Tevinter mage staring at her with an amused grin on his face.

 

“Good morning, beautiful.” He trilled.

 

She stared silently for at least a minute. “Am I naked?” She finally rasped.

 

“You are indeed.” He solemnly confirmed, feigning seriousness.

 

“Oh Maker...did we?” Did she even want to know?

 

“Suffering from a touch of amnesia, are we?”

 

“Dorian.” She whined.

 

“Good heaven's, no.” He laughed, as though the very idea were preposterous.

 

“Then why are you naked?” She loudly whispered.

 

“You insisted.” He shrugged as though it were no big deal.

 

“And why in the void would you agree to such a thing?”

 

“And pass-up on this hilarious encounter?” He shot back. “Not on your life!”

 

She chuckled, clearly relieved that they hadn't done anything completely stupid, but immediately regretted it when her head began to pound anew. “Owww, my head.” She complained, cradling her forehead.

 

“Allow me.” He pulled her closer before placing a hand on her forehead and releasing a steady stream of healing magic. She made a noise of grateful satisfaction as the pounding subsided almost completely, too distracted to hear the door opening or the footsteps on the stairs.

 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Came a deep baritone. “And why wasn't I invited?”

 

“Fuck, Bull!” She leapt off the bed, dragging the sheet with her and leaving Dorian almost completely exposed, save for his smalls. “Don't they knock where you're from!?”

 

“Sorry Princess, I thought you'd still be sleeping.” As though that were excuse enough to just let himself in. “Just wanted to drop off Skinner's hangover cure. You were pretty hammered last night, figured you'd need it.”

 

She slid slowly down the wall, covering her face with the bed sheet.

 

“Dorian.” Greeted the Qunari, devouring the Tevinter with his one eye.

 

“Bull.” Dorian purred, rolling on to his side to properly display himself, positively glowing under Bull's appraising gaze.

 

“Ugh! Get a room...preferably far away from here!” She muffled, peaking out from within her linen cocoon.

 

“So eager to have me leave? And here I thought we had something special.”

 

“Wow. Never had you pegged as the _hit it and quit it_ type.” Bull joined in with the mockery.

 

“Shows how much you know.” She heard Dorian mumble.

 

She groaned in to her hands. “Where's a fade rift when you need one?”

 

“What exactly _did_ you two get up to in here?” The Qunari spy nosily enquired.

 

“Nothing!” She immediately shot back.

 

“Oh I wouldn't say _nothing_.” Dorian mocked.

 

“Dorian!” She warned.

 

“Okay. It was just some light petting, then someone – who will remain nameless - insisted we take off all our clothes and _snuggle_.” The two men laughed hysterically.

 

“Careful Dorian. Perhaps Bull would also like to hear about a certain Altus's erotic fantasy wherein he and a certain horned beast are having a pants-off dance-off.”

 

She'd never seen Dorian look so self-conscious - or Bull with such a huge grin on his face.

 

“Please leave now. I need to hide in shame for at least two days.” She joked.

 

* * *

 

**Is Cullen so bad?**

 

"How in the Makers name did you get so good at this?" Varric was apparently impressed with her wicked grace skills. "I can't believe I haven't figured out your tells yet."

 

"My wicked grace face is the least of my skills, I can assure you."

 

“You know, you remind me of an old friend of mine."

 

"Is that a good thing?"

 

"You'd probably think so - she could empty your pockets with just a look. Not sure I'd trust her to run the Inquisition, mind you."

 

She scanned the room looking for another potential victim with heavy pockets. "I guess were done for the night." She sighed, disappointedly.

 

"Not quite." Varric's eyes lit up as they landed on someone sitting alone at the bar. "Hey, Curly!"

 

"Oh, not him." She whined.

 

"What's wrong with Curly?"

 

"He just...winds me up." She grimaced as she took another swig of the terrible ale.

 

"All the more reason to empty his coin purse, wouldn't you say?" Varric chuckled.

 

"Varric." Cullen stiffly greeted as he approached. "Inquisitor."

 

She found it infuriating that he always insisted on addressing her as such. "Commander." She curtly replied without looking at him; two could play that game.

 

"I've been teaching Freckles here how to play wicked grace." The dwarf lied. "You in?"

 

"Freckles?"

 

She drew an over-exaggerated circle around her cheeks as though he were simple.

 

"Right."

 

He eventually decided on the seat opposite her and dropped a pouch of coins on the table.

 

He was actually pretty good. She decided it was because he was just so dull that his face simply didn't react to the quality of the cards in front of him.

 

She took a large gulp of her dwindling ale then turned to signal for another, only noticing at that moment that most of the patrons had left and Cabot was nowhere to be seen. "Where did Varric go?" She slurred.

 

When did she get so drunk?

 

"He left a while ago."

 

At least Cullen sounded equally as sauced...but when had he moved his chair so close?

 

"I should probably retire, too." He placed a confident hand on her thigh as he leaned closer. "Care to join me, Inquisitor?"

 

She leaned in close, their noses almost touching. “You're not really my type.”

 

He let out a startled laugh. “I thought anything with a pulse was your type.”

 

“Touché." She chuckled. "But you do know what they say about people in glass houses?”

 

“So, you've discovered my secret?”

 

“As you have mine.” She gave him a wink as she chinked his cup with her own before draining the contents.

 

She stood to leave, halting after just a few steps to look back at him. "Maybe try using my actual name, next time?" She suggested as though speaking to a simpleton.

 

"Next time." She heard him repeat in agreement just before the door closed behind her.

 

Why the fuck did she say that?

 

She glanced around the courtyard, hoping to spot a lone guard who might be amenable to a quick how's-your-father, but it was no use. There were only a few guards dotted about the place, and all were in pairs. She sighed in defeat and headed up to her quarters. She'd just have to scratch her own itch tonight, though everyone would suffer for it tomorrow: it would satisfy her in the short-term, but she was always in a foul mood after being forced to resort to self-gratification; as though she was mad at the entire world for not catering to her every whim. Being raised a spoiled princess made her far too accustomed to getting whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it.

 

The next morning she was irked to find Cullen in such high spirits. He'd obviously found someone to accompany him back to his quarters after she'd left. She wasn't jealous of the mystery woman, but rather of him for finding what she'd failed to.

 

She managed to make it through the day without causing any irreparable damage, though there were a few people she'd have to apologise to later. She was thrilled when it was finally an acceptable time to retire to the Tavern for last orders with Bull and his chargers. They were the most fun to drink with, and although she had no intentions of pursuing anything physical with the hulking Qunari, she did rather enjoy the flirting.

 

Last orders came and went in a blur, having been pleasantly sloshed already, and she soon found herself in a darkened corner of the courtyard with her pants around her ankles. What was his name again? Grim - that was it, right? Blond, mute and apparently part-horse. He was probably too close to her inner circle to be sleeping with, but she wasn't particularly concerned about him gossiping; having not heard him utter a single word since joining the Inquisition.

 

She gave him a pat on the back for his satisfactory performance, then pulled up her pants and deigned never to look him in the eye again.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally happens...

She couldn't deny that she felt a little bad for Cullen, having lead the Inquisition to side with the mages and thus dooming the Templar's to the effects of red lyrium. It was because of this that she had made anything to do with Templar's a top priority. 

 

They were currently camped close to the Shrine of Dumat, recovering from their scuffle with an assortment of red Templar's; only to find the place had been torched prior to their arrival. Cullen was not in a good mood, and neither was she. It was not a situation in which either of them predicted they would be inexplicably drawn together.

 

"Dorian, I don't suppose you'd let me borrow Bull for an hour or so, would you?"

 

"Absolutely not, you filthy harlot."

 

"How about you, then? Think you could get it up for a friend in need?"

 

"What in Andraste's name has gotten in to you? You're being even more whorish than usual - as if such a thing were even possible."

 

" _Meow_." She protested, pretending to be offended. “Today has been awful and I need to get laid, like right now.“

 

"So what's the problem? I'm fairly certain you could snap your fingers and have your pick of the entire Inquisition - present company excluded, of course."

 

"Look around, Dorian. Everyone's either injured or sleeping."

 

“Almost as if they'd all just partook in bloody battle, yes?”

 

“Oh, har-har. Yes, I'm an incorrigible slut. Have we not already established this? Remind me again why we don't have Tamasaran's? I think the Qunari are really on to something there."

 

"You know, I'm fairly certain our dear Commander over there is suffering just as much as you are." It wasn't the first time Dorian had tried to encourage such a coupling. 

 

They both looked, rather unsubtly, across the camp to where Cullen was sat furiously sharpening his sword.

 

"Cullen?" She grimaced. "I can't stand the man."

 

"He's you, with a penis." Dorian dead-panned.

 

"Yes, very funny." She rolled her eyes. "Although...no." She shook her head. "I shouldn't. There are some lines that just shouldn't be crossed."

 

"Pfft! As if that's ever stopped you."

 

They both continued to ogle the tightly wound Commander, and then Dorian decided to be wicked.

 

“Just look at the size of him.”

...

“If his hands are that huge, can you even imagine the rest of him?”

...

“I bet he could throw you around the bedroom without even breaking a sweat.”

...

“And, _Maker,_ that scar.”

 

It suddenly dawned on her that she'd been making eye contact with the blond warrior throughout the tail end of Dorian's manipulative speech, and he was now smirking, obviously having realised there was actually a woman in his immediate vicinity and he didn't have to take out his frustrations on his weapon.

 

"Oh, bloody hell, here we go." The necromancer muttered to himself, having noticed the salacious pair eye-balling each other.

 

"Inquisitor." Cullen agitatedly called from across the camp fire. "Do you have a moment?"

 

She turned her head to wink at Dorian before slowly sauntering over to his tent, which the eager Commander had already disappeared in to.

 

"Problem, Commander?" She spoke in a low and sultry register, eyes smouldering as she watched him like a wild cat about to pounce.

 

The look he gave her was one of pure, dark lust. "I am in no mood for games, Inquisitor." He snarled, closing the distance between them and reaching behind her to loosen the tie that bound her hair, scrapping his fingers along the back of her scalp as he fanned her long tresses out around her shoulders.

 

His lips parted as he began to close the tiny remaining distance between them, but she intercepted his kiss with the pad of her index finger. "Just to be clear..."

 

He stepped back a fraction, curiously observing her.

 

"...this is purely recreational."

 

"Whatever you say."

 

"And you'll tell no one."

 

"Wouldn't dream of it."

 

"I don't want to hear any gossiping in the barracks."

 

"Inquisitor."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Shut up."

 

Oh, this was going to be fun.

 

"This doesn't mean I like you." His breath hitched when she palmed him over his trousers.

 

"Make no mistake, Commander, this is only happening because you are literally the only available man in camp."

 

"Take off your clothes." He demanded, through gritted teeth.

 

She stripped down to her smalls and stood proudly before him.

 

"Keep going." He impatiently motioned with his hand for her to continue, more annoyed than aroused by her teasing.

 

She removed her breast band then stepped out of her smalls, licking her lips as she returned to her full height before him.

 

He made a deep, guttural sound of approval as he looked her up and down, pupils blown wide with desire. He wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck, roughly tugging her in to a hard kiss.

 

She permitted the kiss, if only because it took her by surprise, until he effortlessly threw her over his shoulder and carried her over to a pile of furs in the corner, biting her naked rear somewhere along the way.

 

He dropped her on her back, without ceremony, then quickly shed his own clothes as she watched with hungry eyes. She bit her lip as she took in the site of his naked and tensed body, illuminated only by the flickering candle light. Her mouth literally watered as she quickly came to the conclusion that he was practically perfect. She'd half expected the pretty boy to be an advocate of body hair removal, and was pleasantly surprised to find him almost as densely covered in it as Varric.

 

He eventually dropped to his knees and kissed his way up her body from her hips to her lips, blanketing himself on top of her as he spread her legs beneath him. But she wasn't about to just let him take what he wanted while she lay there.

 

With a practised ease, she rolled him on to his back and scraped her nails down his chest. He growled and immediately rolled them again so that she was beneath him. This went on for some time, each of them fighting for dominance as various items were knocked loudly around his tent, until his desire to be inside her eclipsed his need to be in control.

 

As she rolled him on to his back for the umpteenth time, he relented and instead of attempting to roll again he gripped her hips and thrust upwards, grinding himself against her. He moaned at the contact, the moisture of her anticipation coating him almost completely.

 

Satisfied that she had him, she teased him with languid rolls of her hips, rubbing herself along the length of him – which she decided was very lengthy indeed – until she saw the muscles of his jaw clench in frustration and his eager fingers digging in to her hips began to sting.

 

They locked eyes as she lifted herself up slightly and reached for him. She pleasingly savoured the thickness of him in her hand as she teased herself with the tip, before lining him up and taking just an inch.

 

She watched him bite his lip as he struggled to resist the primal urge to fully sheath himself. She took a little more of him ever so slowly, until he groaned and she lost her own resolve; taking the rest of him in a hurry until their bodies collided.

 

His eyes rolled in to the back of his head before he squeezed them tightly shut, neither of them moving as they became accustomed to the feel of each other.

 

Then she rolled her hips and his eyes were suddenly wide open. He lifted a hand to her cheek, running a thumb along her bottom lip, which she immediately bit down on – and not gently. The surprise pain resulted in a rough thrust of his own hips and she cried out as the tip of him hit that elusive spot deep within.

 

She rocked back and forth as he palmed her breasts, the promise of release slowly building. When he propped himself up on his elbows to watch their joining, she leaned backwards to give him an even better view, resting her hands on his legs to support herself.

 

She undulated rhythmically, giving him a show that had him seemingly hypnotised. Eventually he brought his hand in to the mix, sliding his thumb up and down the hood of her clit until she was a trembling mess.

 

She lunged forwards, pushing him flat on his back as she roughly ground herself against him; chasing what would be the first of the nights many, many orgasms.

 

She was impressed with his restraint as she came down from her high only to find he hadn't finished with her. Feeling a little perturbed with her own skill, she re-positioned herself above him to take him in her mouth, presenting herself to him in turn.

 

He made lots of deliciously approving noises as they slurped and sucked each other, she took him deep in to her throat as he stimulated her over-sensitive pearl with his tongue and slid two fingers into her, resulting in an approving groan that lifted his hips off the floor in response.

 

She worked him until she felt him tense, then left him right there on the edge as she straightened up and fucked his face until she crested again.

 

“Fucking tease.” She heard him grit, a mixture of amusement and frustration, before he pushed her forwards on to her hands and knees and swiftly re-entered her from behind.

 

He wasn't gentle as he repeatedly slammed his pelvis against her rear, guiding her movements with a strong and demanding grip on her hips, until he abruptly pulled out and spilled on the ground beneath her.

 

He brought her to climax two more times with his mouth and hands before he was back inside her. And so the night went, on and on until they were both a tangle of sweaty limbs littering the floor of his tent. She could think of only one other time when she'd experienced such carnal perfection: the result of one wild weekend with the youngest of the Starkhaven Prince's - who wanted one last blow out before joining the Chantry.

 

"That was the best sex I've ever had," Cullen panted, sounding almost in awe.

 

She nodded, unable to articulate her current level of satisfaction.

 

"...but I still don't like you."

 

"Ditto." She immediately retorted.

 

Lying flat on their backs, feet at opposite ends of the tent, they both turned their heads to look at each other.

 

"We're definitely doing that again." He confidently professed.

 

"Not likely." She scoffed. "These were desperate times, Commander. I'll not find myself in such a predicament again."

 

"We'll see." He retorted, a little too smugly for her liking.

 

She rolled her eyes and sat up, feeling around in the dark for her clothes. She felt a large hand at the base of her spine, caressing up to the back of her neck before another found it's way on to her cheek and he slowly kissed her. She was surprised with herself for not recoiling from such a tender display, but then it was over almost as soon as it had begun and she heard him move away in search of his own clothes.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maker, she's bad at this.

She fully intended to never think of her night with the Commander again...ever, but things seldom went to plan. She was furious with herself each time he left the war room ahead of her and she felt...disappointed? Part of her wanted him to bend her over the war table – or at least to try so that she could reject him and convince herself she wasn't at all interested in this ridiculous man. But he didn't and it infuriated her!

 

She wasn't sure if he was being more detached than usual or she was just more aware of his normal level of aloofness than before. It didn't help that she hadn't been with anyone else since that night. Strangely, she was having little luck in identifying anyone who piqued her interest. 

 

After yet another unsuccessful sweep of the Tavern, she decided to walk the battlements. The view of the Frostbacks was phenomenal, perhaps it could offer some solace – and the fact that she ended up right beside the Commanders office was pure coincidence.

 

She'd given the snow capped mountains barely a glance before she heard a woman laugh – then moan. She bit her lip and squeezed her legs together. Would it be wrong to touch herself out here in the dark? She pressed her fingers between her legs over the leather of her trousers when the woman moaned again. She rubbed a few slow circles against herself, but it simply wasn't enough. All it did was frustrate her even more that this faceless woman was getting the pleasure she desperately needed!

 

Without even making a conscious decision, she found herself walking over to his door and reaching for the handle. It was as if she'd been possessed and had no control over her body.

 

The Commander was perched on the edge of his desk – shirtless – with a caramel skinned elf standing with her back pressed to his chest. The woman's head was leaning back against his shoulder as he kissed her neck, one hand palming her bare breast as the other ran teasing fingertips up and down her ribs. At the sound of her entrance the elf's eyes snapped open and she squealed, trying frantically to cover herself.

 

“Leave us.” She snapped at the elven woman, surprising herself. It seemed her voice - as well as her body - was no longer cooperating with her logical brain.

 

She stood unmoving in the doorway as the elf re-dressed, preparing to flee. She stared moodily at the Commander, who looked completely unsurprised by her intrusion, smirking that smug half grin of his.

 

“Can I help you with something, Inquisitor?” He casually asked, as soon as they were alone.

 

Maker damn him, even his voice was arousing.

 

"This doesn't mean I like you." She seethed, unfastening the minimum number of buttons required to enable her to pull her tunic off over her head as she kicked the door closed behind her.

 

"Make no mistake, Inquisitor, this is only happening because...” He leaned close to whisper directly in to her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. “... _you want it to_."

 

“Cock.” She corrected, defiantly. “Cock is what I want - that this one is attached to you is of no significance to me.”

 

“Tell yourself whatever lies you need to; I knew you'd be back.”

 

She wanted to punch that smug look right off his face. “Once again, Commander, there were simply no other takers.”

 

“Losing your touch, Lady Herald?”

 

“Why are you still wearing pants!?”

 

He chuckled, the noise reverberating deep from within his chest, before threading his fingers through her hair and sealing his mouth over hers. She felt dizzy when he eventually pulled away, the slightly noticeable sway causing that infuriatingly tasty grin to widen.

 

“Why don't we move this upstairs – unless you prefer the desk?” He arched a thick eyebrow in question.

 

“Why not both?” She purred, finally regaining her senses, intent on reclaiming the upper hand.

 

He kissed her once more, then span her around and roughly bent her over the desk. He ran his hands down the backs of her thighs as he fell to his knees and peeled off her trousers, then back up again to spread her open. She was so ridiculously aroused that it took no more than three seconds of pressure from his tongue to completely unravel her. She curled her toes and gasped as a tiny little orgasm tickled her senses.

 

“Been a while, has it?” He spoke against her arse, before playfully nipping at the supple flesh.

 

“Less talking. More fucking.” She retorted.

 

He grabbed each of her wrists as he stood behind her, holding them together at the base of her spine, forcing her back in to a delicious curve as he forcefully hilted himself. She almost screamed as his pelvis collided with her rear, immediately setting a punishing pace of powerful thrusts that had the desk creaking beneath them.

 

She was delirious with the sensations his glorious cock was delivering, to say nothing of the devilishly arousing noises he was making behind her. He eventually released her wrists in favour of looming over her. He had her boxed in with his elbows resting on the desk at either side of her, biting her shoulder as he neared his peak.

 

“Where -” She knew immediately what he was about to ask, and already had a preference in mind.

 

“Mouth.” She had to suppress a chuckle at the startled noise he made in response to her demand, slightly concerned that he may have accidentally spilled himself.

 

But her Commander had more control over himself than that. He pulled her off the desk, span her around and forced her to her knees; where she wasted no time in taking him in to her mouth. She took him balls deep once, twice, then felt him reflexively trying to pry her away so as not to actually spill in her mouth – but that was exactly what she'd asked for; so she grabbed his arse and held him firmly in place until he was empty.

 

When she was certain he'd stopped leaking, she slowly let him slip from her mouth; licking her lips as she shot him a sated look of enjoyment from her crouched position on the floor.

 

“You are such a fucking minx.” He smirked, offering her a hand to help her stand.

 

“You said something about upstairs?” She demurely enquired, stepping toward the ladder.

 

He took the opportunity to spank her bare arse as she stepped on to the lowest rung. He could barely keep his hands off her as he ascended the ladder, hot on her heels. By the time they both emerged on the upper floor, he was impressively almost ready to go again.

 

She took a moment to admire his physique as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight. He was...huge. A finely sculpted specimen, no doubt carved by the generous hands of the Maker Himself; dotted with an impressive assortment of scars and covered in just the right amount of coarse blonde hair.

 

She swept her eyes over his body once more before focusing on his eyes, which were staring intently at her; an indecipherable look on his face.

 

“What?” She asked, defensively.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. “...nothing.“

 

“Okay, weirdo.” She anxiously fidgeted with her fingernails as he continued to assault her with that odd stare of his.

 

“Do I make you nervous, Inquisitor?” He prowled towards her, backing her up until her legs hit the bed and she fell backwards.

 

He immediately covered her with his own body and proceeded to kiss her, passionately. He stopped to look down at her, that same annoyingly unreadable look on his face.

 

“Stop.” She exasperated.

 

“Stop what?”

 

“Looking at me like that.”

 

“Like what?” He laughed.

 

“Like you don't hate me.”

 

“Maybe I don't.”

 

“Oh, for the love of - you'll be asking me to stay for breakfast next.” She japed.

 

“Would that be so terrible?”

 

She gave him a disgusted look, as though he were something she'd stepped in. “Gross.”

 

He let out a long belly laugh, as though she'd said something hilarious. She did not join in.

 

“Shall I pretend I dislike you, Inquisitor?”

 

“That would be preferable, yes.”

 

He took her fast and rough, he took her soft a slow, he took her in positions both foreign and familiar; until she was so exhausted that she did the unthinkable...and fell asleep!

 

When she awoke the following morning, her entire body pleasantly sore from exertion, she didn't immediately remember where she was or with whom. She stretched her arms out above her head then turned on to her side, coming face-to-face with the previous nights entertainment.

 

“Shit! Sorry.” She sharply apologised, frantically turning to escape, completely mortified. “I must have fallen asleep, I didn't mean to -”

 

She was abruptly silenced when his arm encircled her waist and pulled her back down to the mattress, nuzzling his nose in to the hair at the nape of her neck – and morning arousal against her rear. “It's still early, you don't need to rush off.”

 

His voice was gruff and lazy and she didn't understand why she found it so appealing.

 

“Uh...unless you want to?” He loosened his grip slightly, allowing her to stand if she truly wished to. Once enough time had passed for him to know she wasn't going to flee, he pulled her closer and breathed deeply of her.

 

“Are you...sniffing me?” She asked in mock-revulsion

 

“You smell like me.” He said with pride. “It's nice.”

 

She turned in his arms to face him. “Careful, Commander. You keep saying things like that and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

 

He ran his hand up her back and in to her hair, leaving tingly goosebumps in his wake, before guiding her in to a lazy kiss. As the kiss grew in intensity, he rolled her on to her back and, as though magnetised, he found himself reflexively sinking in to her. The pace was slow and sensual, mouths permanently affixed, swallowing moans and sighs of pleasure until they reached a simultaneous peak.

 

Something changed between them in that moment, an unwelcome feeling that made her blood run cold. She'd never allowed herself to want...more. And now here she was wondering when she'd get to be with him again, even as they were still connected.

 

She didn't like it one bit.

 

She tensed up as he affectionately kissed her neck.

 

"Everything okay?" He arched an eyebrow, clearly confused.

 

"I, uh...should go - before someone realises I spent the night." She rose from the bed and began searching for her clothes.

 

"Would that be so terrible?"

 

"Are you serious!? This was a huge mistake that I don't intend on anyone finding out about."

 

"Ouch." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright.

 

 _Don't look at his pelvis, Trevelyan. You do and you're a goner._ “Well, what exactly would you call what we just did?”

 

“Uh, Incredible? Mind-blowing? Possibly the best night of my life?”

 

“Don't take the piss, Cullen.”

 

“I'm not!”

 

“Just...stay away from me, okay? This should never have happened.” She made for the ladder, having realised all of her clothes were on the floor of his office, and tried to ignore him as he descended shortly after her – blessedly after having stopped to put on some pants.

 

“What the fuck is happening?” All traces of humour were now gone from his voice. “When I woke up this morning I actually felt _good_.”

 

“And now?” She feigned disinterest.

 

“And now I feel like shit because you're pretending that last night – _and this morning_ – meant nothing to you.”

 

“Whose pretending?” She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from immediately back tracking. She took a deep breath. “Let's not get confused about what this was. I assumed we were on the same page, but if not then this _absolutely cannot_ happen again.”

 

“Inquisitor, wait.”

 

“Cullen, this isn't open for debate -”

 

“No...your shirt is inside out.”

 

“Oh...”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Cullen**

 

He hadn't so much as looked at another woman since she'd stormed out of his office after declaring their night together a huge mistake and insisting it wouldn't happen again. He was desperate for some action, but only she would suffice.

 

He tried to speak with her each time she returned to Skyhold, though was largely unsuccessful. She was even avoiding the Tavern and rarely stayed for more than one night before departing again. She was preparing to travel back to The Western Approach when he finally spotted her without her usual entourage.

 

“Oliv - Inquisitor, do you have a moment?”

 

She looked around wildly in what appeared to be a desperate bid to locate some means of escape. When she saw that it was just the two of them, her shoulders sagged and she let out a long sigh.

 

“Why are you avoiding me?”

 

“I...thought you'd appreciate the space.”

 

“Well, I don't. So you can stop now.”

 

She seemed unsure how to respond.

 

“You made it pretty clear that you're not interested, and I'm fine with that.” It was a big fat lie, but he was playing the long game.

 

“Really?” She squinted her eyes, suspiciously.

 

“Of course. And as it's only a matter of time before someone notices you avoiding me and makes up some silly story, I'd appreciate it if we could return to the way things were.”

 

“You mean when we didn't like each other?”

 

“If that's the way you saw it, sure.”

 

“All right.” He couldn't tell if she looked more suspicious or confused. He hoped it was the later.

 

“You're headed to Griffon Wing Keep?”

 

“Yes. Cassandra thought it would be good for moral if I stayed a few nights to _mingle with the troops_.” She rolled her eyes as though the idea held little appeal.

 

But damn it! Several nights in the company of sexually deprived soldiers? He'd need to write an embarrassing letter to Rylen.

 

“Rylen is a good man. He'll have the Keep up to code in no time.”

 

“Oh, that's right: you served together in Kirkwall, didn't you?”

 

“Briefly, but I trust him like a brother.”

 

“Good to know.” Her smile made him nervous, but he wasn't exactly sure why.

 

“Well...take care, Inquisitor.”

 

“Commander.”

 

He fled back to his office to add a short note to the various reports he'd already prepared to send to Griffon Wing Keep.

  

**_Rylen_ **

****

_**I'm cashing in on that no-questions-asked favour you owe me.** _

 

_**The Inquisitor is on her way to you and I need you to ensure she "sleeps" alone.** _

 

_**I trust you understand my meaning.** _

****

**_Cullen_ **

  

He received what he assumed was a response to this, shortly before the Inquisitor returned a few weeks later.

 

**_Cullen_ **

****

**_You owe me a fucking medal._ **

****

**_Rylen_ **

 

* * *

 

 

**Olivia**

 

She had successfully managed to avoid falling back in to the Commanders bed since their spat, constantly travelling and avoiding returning to Skyhold until it was absolutely necessary. Eventually though, he inevitably cornered her, but she was pleased to hear he'd accepted there would be no further repeat of their mistake.

 

Or was she?

 

She wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying or how she was responding, until he mentioned Rylen and she concocted a plan to sabotage any chance of future dalliances with the Commander. Surely sleeping with a man he referred to as a brother would make her seem less attractive, and thus reduce the risk of them falling in to bed again in the future?

 

Rylen was attractive enough, and coupled with his Starkhaven brogue she could easily see herself spending the night with him. He seemed up for it at first, but then he'd gone off to deal with some paperwork and returned a seemingly different man. She couldn't for the life of her figure it out. She flirted shamelessly, making innuendos and finding any excuse to brush up against him, but apart from the raging hard-on he was apparently all too happy to ignore, he otherwise completely failed to react.

 

Eventually, work brought her back to Skyhold and she couldn't deny that she was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed. Josephine had begun arranging for a bath to be made up for her as soon as they were spotted on the bridge and within the hour she found herself submerged in gloriously hot, fragrant water.

 

The bliss was short lived, however, having been dragged almost immediately to the war room to discuss the siege on Adamant. It was a very long, very complex discussion, and when it was finally over all she wanted to do was slip on a silky negligee and masturbate for a bit (it really wasn't pissing her off as much these days, having become accustomed to it during their travels).

 

Cassandra left first, closely followed by Josephine and Leliana, and Cullen wasn't far behind. Instead of leaving however, he closed and bolted the door then turned to face her.

 

What was he playing at now? Was everything he'd said the last time they spoke complete bollocks?

 

"Olivia." She couldn't disguise the shudder that ran through her body at the sound of her name from his lips. "I need you."

 

It was doubtful either of them could honestly say who jumped who first, but she somehow found herself pressed up against the door with his tongue in her mouth. They fumbled with each other’s belts until he was free and she'd managed to kick one boot off and pull that leg out of her pants, at which point he pulled her knee up to rest on his hip then immediately thrust in to her.

 

She bit his lip as he repeatedly slammed her in to the door, the noise undoubtedly reaching as far as Josephine's office, who she could just picture awkwardly blushing. But she felt no shame, because the hunger she'd denied for so many weeks was finally being sated, and _it was glorious_.

 

It was over almost as quickly as it began, and she'd put money on him having not been with anyone else since her.

 

"You cannot deny our chemistry." He spoke, a little smugly, as they were almost finished attempting to straighten themselves out.

 

"Perhaps." She couldn't exactly deny it, not after that display.

 

"I don't know about you, but that doesn't happen to me very often." He stared expectantly at her for an uncomfortable length of time.

 

"I just - I'm not looking for anything serious."

 

"So no more sex?"

 

She sighed. "Well, maybe not _no_ sex.”

 

"But no commitment?"

 

"I don't recall asking for exclusive rights to you, Cullen."

 

He pouted, looking infuriatingly adorable, before possessively grabbing her and pulling her close. "I don't want to share you."

 

"Tough shit." She smirked as she halfheartedly attempted to push him away.

 

"So the thought of me with another woman doesn't bother you?"

 

"Not one bit. In fact, I might even be persuaded to join in."

 

"You're trying to distract me."

 

"Cullen." She whined. "If I knew you were going to get all _monogamous_ on me, I would never have stepped foot in your tent that night."

 

"Do I not satisfy you?"

 

"Thoroughly."

 

"Then why am I not enough?"

 

"I didn't say that."

 

"But you still intend to sleep with other people?"

 

"I intend to do whatever I want, with whomever I choose; without having to worry about anyone's feelings. I suggest you do the same."

 

He frowned but did not release his hold on her.

 

"Things are good now, but eventually you'll tire of me or I'll tire of you and then we'll avoid each other - because nobody wants to have that conversation, and war meetings will be awkward - for everyone. I'd just rather avoid all of that."

 

"I will convince you, Inquisitor. You'll see that you can't live without me."

 

"Are we done here?"

 

"For now."

 

When she finally reached the blissful privacy of her quarters, she couldn’t help but grumble at the sight of Dorian sitting in the middle of her bed.

 

“Charming.” He japed. “Not a word from you in weeks and you can’t even spare a minute to say hello.”

 

“Sorry.” She blushed. This having friends thing was still new to her. Nobody had stuck around this long before, though she realised her current acquaintances had only lasted this long because they had no choice in the matter.

 

“Would you like me to leave?” He looked away from her, moodily.

 

“No.” She tried to sound remorseful, but that too was a new concept for her.

 

“Good.” His smile reappeared almost instantly. “Now come sit with me and tell me everything I’ve missed.”

 

Before long they were lay side by side, chatting rubbish about this and that, until she asked him about Bull and he launched in to an epic tale that sounded like something Cassandra might have enjoyed reading. She was glad to listen, if only because it kept the focus off of her.

 

She and Dorian had become close; closer than any friend she’d had since before her mother died, and she worried that it was only a matter of time before he probed a little too deep for comfort.

 

“So, uh…how’s things with the Commander?” He tried to act aloof, but she could tell he’d been working up to the question for some time.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Oh, please tell me.” He pouted. “Your life is so much juicer than anything I could make up.”

 

“Fine.” She grumbled.

 

Dorian clapped excitedly then rolled on to his side to face her.

 

“So, you know about that first night - after the shrine?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Then again in his office...”

 

He gasped, though didn’t seem convincingly surprised.

 

“And…just now in the war room.”

 

“You dirty bitch!” He exclaimed, excitedly. “So, is this going to be a regular occurrence then?”

 

She grimaced. _Regular occurrence_ sounded far too much like _relationship_ , and she certainly didn't want that.

 

“What?” He frowned in confusion. “Is he not good?”

 

She laughed, as though his presumption couldn’t be further from the truth.

 

“Then what is it?”

 

 _Other than me being a selfish bitch with abandonment issues?_ “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of going back for seconds – if you know what I mean?”

 

“I see.”

 

“And now I’ve had three helpings, but still I find that my appetite is not fully sated.”

 

“And how does our Commander feel?”

 

“He thinks we have chemistry.” She rolled her eyes.

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

“He wants us to be _exclusive_.” She said it as though it were a dirty word.

 

“So what’s holding you back?”

 

And there it was: the question she’d been dreading.

 

“I –“

 

The perfectly timed knock at the door could only have been divine intervention.

 

“Who would dare bother you at this time of night, I wonder?” He smiled, salaciously, as he sauntered down the stairs to unbolt the door. “Fancy seeing you here.” She heard Dorian’s over-animated speech. “I was just leaving – you’ll find her on the bed.” She could just picture the suggestive wink he would no doubt have delivered with his parting words.

 

She straightened herself out as the footsteps on the stairs crept slowly higher, suddenly very uncharacteristically nervous. She held her breath as he reached the top and turned to face her, reaching up to rub the back of his neck; looking equally as nervous.

 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late but I saw your light from the battlements and assumed you were –“

 

“It’s okay, Cullen.” She smiled at his nervous rambling. “I was just catching up with Dorian.”

 

“I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

 

“Perfect timing, actually.” She chuckled. “Would you like to sit?”

 

He cleared his throat then slowly crossed the room to join her on the edge of the bed.

 

She sat cross-legged, expectantly watching him.

 

“I wanted to talk to you before we leave for Adamant tomorrow – about what I said earlier.”

 

 _Ah. He’s changed his mind. Of course he has._ “Yes?”

 

“Well?” He probed. “Have you given any thought to it?”

 

“Thought to…?”

 

“Us.” He laughed.

 

“You mean you haven’t…changed your mind?”

 

“Why would I –“ He furrowed his brow then shook his head and took both her hands in his. “No. I haven’t. I know it’s foolish, but I worry about what we’ll find at Adamant – and what might happen to you.”

 

She looked shyly down at their intertwined fingers. “I appreciate the concern, but we’ll be fine.” She looked at his mouth and moved a little closer. ”We always are.”

 

“After everything you’ve achieved, I’m inclined to believe you.” He released one of her hands in favour of sliding his fingers in to her hair and pulling her in to an epic, slow kiss.

 

As their tongues became reacquainted her arms slowly wound their way around his neck and he effortlessly hoisted her on to his lap. They stared breathlessly at each other for a few tense seconds before their lips crashed together again.

 

His hand stroked up her back, pushing up the fabric of her sleep shirt. “Well?” He managed to ask between kisses.

 

“What?” She mumbled before nibbling his bottom lip.

 

He held her at arms-length, earning him in annoyed growl. “Does this mean we’re together?”

 

“I –“ She swallowed, nervously. “Ask me after we’re back.”

 

“Do you promise to give me a straight answer?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Do you want me to go?”

 

She shook her head…then smirked, suggestively.

 

She clung to him when he abruptly stood, only to turn them around and fall back in to bed. Their heated kisses stopped only to remove their clothes and – after a little rough and tumble – she was soon straddling him again as he sat propped up against the headboard.

 

Their foreheads were pressed tightly together as she slowly ground herself against him. His giant hands – at least giant compared to her petite frame – rested comfortably on the globes of her arse, fingers digging in ever so slightly harder each time she took him all the way.

 

“I have never seen eyes as beautiful as yours.”

 

She slowed her movements almost to a halt before resuming her previous pace. “Shut up.” She nervously mocked him.

 

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot who I was with for a moment.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She looked mildly amused as she continued to leisurely work towards their climax.

 

“Just that I know compliments make you feel uncomfortable.” His grip tightened again for a second as she undulated above him.

 

“Then stop talking.” She whispered, right before occupying his mouth with her tongue.

 

It took at least an hour for them both to be thoroughly satisfied, and as she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat as she caught her breath, she must have dozed off.

  

 **Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere, and nothing she did helped stem the flow of it.** **A familiar voice whispered words that had haunted her for years, as lifeless** **eyes stared up at her; eyes so much like her own.** **She called for help, but she was just so weak.**

 

She sat bolt-upright and looked confusedly down at her now bloodless hands. Her throat felt raw, as though she’d been screaming.

 

“Are you alright?” A voice to her left startled her. She stared at him, silently blinking away her tears, until he touched a hand to her cheek. “Bad dream?”

 

She recoiled from his touch and wiped her eyes. “I think you should go, now.”

 

“Olivia.” He mildly chastised. “You don’t have to hide your nightmares from me. I have them too.”

 

“No, it’s not that.” She lied, appearing a lot calmer than her pounding heart would otherwise suggest. “It’s late, and I would rather you didn’t spend the night.”  _Real nice, Olivia._

 

He gave her a dirty look and exhaled in annoyance before flipping the covers off himself and proceeded to dress in a furious manner.

 

Her heart was still racing from the dream, so she couldn’t fully commit to feeling bad about essentially kicking him out of bed; but she had a feeling she’d regret it in the morning.

 

He didn’t so much as look at her before charging down the stairs and slamming the door behind him. She sank back down in to the pillows and cried until she fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

**Adamant**

 

What kind of fresh horror was this? Her companions were complaining about fighting giant spiders, but that wasn’t what she was seeing at all. When Bull said he wasn’t seeing spiders either, Cassandra theorised that they were all seeing their own individual fears. That would explain it then.

 

“What do you see, boss?”

 

She didn’t dare tell them the truth. “Spiders.” She lied without hesitation. “I hate them.”

 

In truth, it was herself she was seeing: but she was the image of her mother…the very last image. The possibility of inheriting her mother’s condition had always haunted her. She didn’t want to put that kind of burden on anyone.

 

After stabbing the twelfth or so fear-demon-version of herself to death, she was completely numb to it. The Nightmare demon however was constantly whispering to her, telling her she was doomed to end up just like her mother, that she would be a burden to everyone who cared for her. She wondered why it whispered this to her alone and didn’t out her as she’d feared. But she knew her fear was far more potent while her secrets remained just that.

 

They eventually reached the rift that would hopefully take them back to Adamant, but someone had to stay behind to cover their retreat. Had it not been for her brief fling with Hawke, she wasn’t sure she would have made the same choice.

 

“Stroud. I’m so sorry. If it could be me…”

 

“Do not apologise for this, Inquisitor. It has been an honour.” He was brave until the very end.

 

She stared at nothing in particular, after closing the rift behind them. The sounds of cheering drowned everything else out. She knew she’d be expected to say something soon, but she just couldn’t find it in herself to react.

 

She might have heard someone calling her name, it may have even sounded frantic, but she didn’t care. She was startled when she felt strong arms encircle her, though not enough to react. When she felt his hands on her face and his lips against her own, however, she tried to push him away in a blind panic.

 

“What are you doing!?” She vehemently objected.

 

“I thought you were dead!” He sounded distraught. “So now I’m going to kiss you, and I don’t care who sees.”

 

She grabbed handfuls of the fur around his shoulders as she attempted to pry him off, but he was insistent. She noticed a few people eyeing them, and she began to feel exceedingly uncomfortable.

 

“Stop fighting me!” He snarled. “I care about you, and I know you feel the same; no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

 

She reacted on instinct, and regretted it almost immediately, slapping a hand loudly across his cheek. “You do not tell me how I feel!” It came out as an angry whisper, not wanting other people to hear but also trying to make a point.

 

“Fine.” His arms dangled limply at his sides as he took a few steps away from her. “You win.” He looked so utterly disappointed in her, before turning on his heel and disappearing in to the crowd.

 

She wanted to call out to him, beg him to come back, but this was for the best. At least now she wouldn’t need to have _that_ conversation with him.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Skyhold**

 

They largely avoided each other during the return trip to Skyhold, speaking only when necessary to coordinate troop movements. She knew it was for the best, regardless of any feelings she may or may not have on the matter. Once this was all over, she'd go back to her old life; and there simply wasn't a place for Cullen.

 

When they gathered in the war room upon their collective return, she planned to corner him as they were leaving - just to clear the air - but he rushed off ahead of everyone else. She visited his office a few of times, but he'd immersed himself so completely in his work that he was never alone. He was rarely even ending his nights with a drink in the Tavern any more.

 

She wasn't able to mull over her feelings for very long, however, as a surprise guest soon arrived to occupy her attention.

 

“Theo?” She gasped as she reached the top of her stairs. “What are you doing here?”

 

He halted his innocently nosy rummaging, and turned his annoyingly perfect smile on her. “Is that any way to welcome your big brother?”

 

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “It’s, uh, good to see you?”

 

“You might want to tell your face that.” He laughed as he crossed the room and pulled her in to an awkward hug.

 

“Did father send you?” She eyed him suspiciously, refusing to return his embrace.

 

“What did you expect, Liv?” He sighed, releasing her and retreating to a respectful distance. “You haven't responded to any of his letters.”

 

“Must have slipped my mind.” She innocently shrugged. “I have been rather busy, you know.”

 

“And that's why I convinced him to send me instead of coming himself.”

 

“Shit." She quietly cursed. "Thank you.”

 

“No problem, what are big brothers for?” He winked. “Now...tell me about this Commander of yours.”

 

Her suspicious squint was immediately rekindled. “Just how long have you been here, exactly?”

 

“Just a day or so. I wanted to get peoples honest opinions of you before they discovered who I really am.”

 

“We're identical twins, moron.” She scolded. “Do you not think they might have noticed?”

 

“You'd be surprised how many people haven't seen you up close - and you didn't answer my question.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “He's...just a bit of fun.”

 

“You sure that's all it is?”

 

“Of course! I'm not an idiot.”

 

“And does  _he_  know it's just a bit of fun?”

 

“He...wants more - wanted more.” She corrected. “I think I made it pretty clear that isn't going to happen.”

 

“By attacking him in front of his men, no?”

 

“I didn't attack him! It was a light slap, that's all - why do you care, anyway?”

 

“You need to be more discreet, Liv. Lucky for you, father still believes that ignorance is bliss where your personal life is concerned - but news travels, sister. If he hears you've involved yourself with a commoner -”

 

“Cullen isn't a commoner.”

 

“ _If_  he hears about this, he might literally have the man killed. You do understand that?”

 

She looked at the floor, feeling thoroughly chastised.

 

“I'm not judging you, sister. In fact, I wholeheartedly approve: the man's a dreamboat.”

 

“Ugh.” She grimaced. “Why can't you be like normal brothers? It makes me nauseous when you approve of my sex life.”

 

“Let's not pretend either of us is normal, Liv.”

 

“No, I suppose we're not.” She chuckled. “Can I ask you something, Theo?”

 

He tensed a little, but didn't protest.

 

“Do you remember what she was like...during those last few weeks?”

 

“Liv...” He sighed, half sympathetic-half irritated. “Must we do this?”

 

"I had a bit of a memory boost recently." She held up her marked palm to examine the hypnotic green pulse of magic. “I remembered something from just before she died. It didn't make any sense at the time, but now..."

 

"She spouted a lot of random crap, Liv. Some of it was bound to make sense at some point."

 

"She'd fixate on my hand; constantly touching it, asking me if it hurt - she acted as though I'd been injured." She curled her hand in to a fist then looked him in the eye. "Please tell me you remember that?”

 

“I'm sorry, Liv, I don't." He shook his head. 

 

Her shoulders slumped, even if he did remember he probably wouldn't admit it. “Just forget it.”

 

“You should take your own advice, sister.”

 

They were quiet for a moment as each became lost in their own traumatic memories.

 

“I'm going for a drink." He suddenly declared, effectively cutting through the tense atmosphere. "You coming?”

 

“I have some reports I need to finish.” She distractedly answered. “I'll join you later, though.”

 

He nodded, then sauntered off as though he hadn't a care in the world. Her brother always did prefer to avoid his own emotions.

 

* * *

 

**The Heralds Rest**

 

“Commander Cullen.” A distinctly Trevelyan looking man appeared beside him, with an arm outstretched in greeting. “Theodore Trevelyan. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

“Uh -”

 

“Cabot, my good man.” The man spoke as if addressing a close friend. “A bottle of your finest rum -” The young Lord cocked his head to the side to give him an analytical once-over, before turning back to the bartender. “Better make that whiskey, if you'd be so kind. And two glasses.”

 

He watched the Inquisitor's twin pick up the bottle and glasses, then make his way over to one of the more secluded booths. “Well come on then.” He shouted to him from across the room as he stood frozen at the bar in some kind of daze.

 

He eventually remembered he was able to walk, and then realised quite soon after that he needn't have worried about the Inquisitors  _big brother._  He seemed more of a partner in crime than a protective sibling.

 

They'd spent the majority of the evening talking about everything and nothing, having all but finished the rather large bottle of liquor, when the Inquisitor inevitably appeared - because of course she would show up when he was this inebriated and liable to declare his feelings for her in front of the entire Inquisition.

 

She had a worried look on her face as she approached their table, and he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet and whisk her off to some far away place.

 

“Theo.” She spoke curtly through clenched teeth. “What are you doing?”

 

“Well I was trying to get the Commander drunk so that he'd tell me all of his dirty little secrets.” He slurred. “But bloody hell, Liv, the man can drink! I think he may now know more of mine than I his.”

 

“Time for bed then, wouldn't you say?” Cullen watched as she ushered her brother out of his seat and towards the door.

 

Despite his few remaining coherent brain cells, he just couldn't stop himself from reaching for her; wrapping his fingers around her wrist to halt her exit.

 

She whipped her head around to look at him, a startled expression on her face.

 

“Join me for one?” He managed to sound  _slightly_  less drunk than he was.

 

She turned back to her brother who, having noticed the exchange, insisted he was quite capable of finding his room without aid.

 

She watched him leave, her posture tense, before she slowly made her way to her brothers vacant seat opposite him.

 

“About what happened -”

 

“I just wanted to -”

 

They both spoke at once, laughing as they interrupted each other.

 

“May I?” She asked, to which he nodded. “I'm sorry - for what it's worth. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.”

 

He smiled, much wider than he ought to.  _Damn whiskey._  “And I wanted to apologise for being so pushy. I shouldn't have tried to do what I did in front of so many people. I understand your reaction.”

 

“Oh.” She clearly wasn't expecting him to say that. “So...why have you been avoiding me since we returned?”

 

“Honestly? At first my pride was wounded, but then I just felt like a bit of an idiot and I couldn't face you I suppose.” He shrugged, drunkenly.

 

Her laughter startled him. “So, we're good then? Just Commander and Inquisitor again?”

 

A part of him had hoped the conversation would end with her accompanying him to bed, but alas, it was not to be. “If that's your wish.”

 

“Good.” She stood to leave, before downing two fingers of whiskey. “I'll see you in a few weeks.” And then she left without a second glance.

 

He propped his elbows on the table, buried his face in his hands and breathed out a long sigh of self-pity.

 

* * *

  

**Argon's Lodge, The Emerald Graves**

 

After an unavoidable scuffle with a pack of wandering giants, Cassandra suggested they bed down at Argon's Lodge to rest and recuperate before beginning the journey home.

 

She was assigned a small, though blessedly private, room and was about to thank the Maker that she had managed to avoid bumping in to Fairbanks: she knew an apology would be necessary for her role in making the news of his parentage public, but all she wanted to do right now was rest, and perhaps touch herself a little. Unfortunately though, her private time was rudely interrupted by the very man she had been trying to avoid, when he let himself in to her room - without knocking - and near enough slammed the door behind him. 

 

 _Time to grovel, Trevelyan._ "Fairbanks - or should I call you Lord Lemarque, now?” _Or you could sass him._

 

"I asked you not to pursue the rumours of my birth, Inquisitor."

 

Wearing nothing but her smalls and an almost see-through nightshirt, she took a few steps backwards as he moved slowly towards her in a simmering rage.

 

"And now I find myself inundated with grotesque party invitations and ludicrous marriage proposals."

 

She should be working on an apology, or at least paying attention to what he was saying, but she found herself distracted by his surprising intensity. It made her wonder just how far she could push him.

 

"You know, if you gave it a chance, you might be surprised at just how enjoyable a life of luxury can be." She wanted to see some aggression.

 

"Oh, really? So I'm supposed to play the game now? Grow fat on rich foods and pickle my liver with fancy wine? Hire elven servants to secretly spy on my political rivals? Flaunt my wealth with no regard for those who have nothing?"

 

By the time she felt the wall at her back, she was panting slightly. He opened his mouth to continue his rage, but then clocked the obvious arousal in her heavy lidded eyes. His anger remained, but was now also joined by desire - a combination that had potential.

 

"Is that the kind of man that interests you, Inquisitor?" Her entire body was vibrating as he leaned closer, grazing his lips on her earlobe as he whispered. "Is that the kind of man who makes you wet?"

 

A startled but agreeable moan escaped her when his hand found its way between her legs, sliding over the thin material of her smalls.

 

"I think so." He mused, licking his lips before peppering one side of her neck with barely-there kisses, while his fingers rubbed slow circles over her pulsing mound.

 

She bit her lip when he pulled back a fraction to look her in the eye, and whined when he moved his hand away from her; but only to bring it to his face to obscenely inhale her scent. She was trembling with anticipation as he slowly sucked his fingers in to his mouth, coating them with saliva, then slid his hand in to her smalls and pushed two fingers inside her.

 

She let her head fall backwards with a thud, roughly connecting with the wall at her back, as he began unlacing the wide neck of her shirt with his free hand. He dipped his head to take a newly exposed nipple in to his mouth, and she slid her fingers along his scalp; grabbing handfuls of his long dark hair to make the contact rougher. Only it wasn't his dark hair she was picturing between her fingers, as she squeezed her eyes shut tight, but tamed blonde curls.

 

He bit down on her hardened nipple and she almost wailed, his hand beginning a repetitive dance of slowly fucking her with his fingers then sliding them out to tease her throbbing bundle of nerves.

 

And then his hand was gone.

 

“We don't always get what we want, do we now, Inquisitor?” He whispered, before making a slow retreat.

 

She grit her teeth and curled her toes as her denied orgasm simmered just below the surface, begging to be unleashed. But she'd been perfectly capable of tending to her own needs for quite some time now, so she slipped a hand in to her pants, locked eyes with the reluctant noble, and finished herself off.

 

“If there's one thing you should know about me,” She panted, as her cunt continued to pulse against her fingers. “It's that I always get what I want.”

 

He took a few steps towards her, clearly having had a change of heart, but she was decidedly done with him. “That will be all, Lord Lemarque. I trust you can see yourself out.”

 

For just a moment, she thought he might try to force himself on her, but then he span on his heel and stormed out; muttering a colourful array of Orlesian expletives.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**The Winter Palace**

 

Yes, she was here to foil an assassination plot against the Empress, but was that really any reason to commit such a heinous crime of fashion? She had argued with Josephine until she was blue in the face, but that damn relentless woman categorically insisted they needed to _present a united front_. But there was just no way in the void she was wearing that stuffy, masculine monstrosity. She'd make it up to the Lady Ambassador somehow; Josephine could never stay mad for long.

 

...

 

"You might want to pick your jaw up off the floor before someone trips over it, Curly."

 

"I, uh, well."

 

"Quite the vision, isn't she?"

 

"I just...don't think I've ever seen her in a dress, is all - why didn't she have to wear this like the rest of us!?" He pinched the tight fitting red military style dress jacket

 

"From the look on our lady ambassador's face, I'd say she was supposed to be."

 

He swallowed nervously as she sauntered towards them, completely transfixed by the subtle sway of her hips and the slight jiggle of her half-exposed breasts. The top half of her dress might as well have been painted on, the damn thing was so tight. The bottom half consisted of a huge black lace covered skirt, which made her tiny waist look even smaller by comparison. As he continued to watch her approach, he noticed the skirt had a split down the front; briefly exposing a leg swathed in black fabric with each step she took.

 

"Gentlemen." She sultrily greeted.

 

"You know she's going to kill you, right?" Varric nodded his head towards a scowling Josephine across the room.

 

"As if I was going to attend a ball at the _fucking winter palace_ wearing the same outfit as you two. I have standards, you know."

 

"I don't know, Freckles, you don't exactly look like you'd be useful in a fight."

 

"Oh, I may have a few tricks up my sleeve - well skirt, actually." She winked, laughing at her own private joke.

 

And then the game began, and he watched her accept the hand of the first of many royal pricks clamouring for just one dance with the _Herald of Andraste_. She seemed so at ease with it all, like she was in her natural habitat. She moved with grace and dignity and near every head in the room had at least one eye on her, himself included.

 

...

 

He'd lost track of the Inquisitor some time ago and was currently attempting to ignore the ludicrous advances of the tiny fan group he'd somehow garnered, when he felt someone pinch his rear. He span around, in complete shock and frankly a little unsure of how he was planning to retaliate, but was surprised to find the Inquisitors faux-innocent face beaming up at him.

 

He looked around to see if anyone was listening, then leaned close enough to whisper - but not so close as to rouse anyone's suspicion. "Did you just pinch my bottom?"

 

She simply nodded, demurely fanning her lashes.

 

"Is that wise?"

 

"Probably not." She admitted, looking falsely chastised. "I think I may have had one too many wines."

 

"Oh, Maker." He sighed to himself. "Can you walk?"

 

She nodded, then looped her arm around his for a little precautionary support.

 

He lead them to the nearest vacant balcony and closed the large double-doors behind them. When he turned, she was stood right at the edge, her forearms on the railing, as she breathed deep of the fragrant evening air. She looked every bit the noble he knew her to be, but for once it didn't irritate him.

 

"Better?" He asked as he came to stand beside her.

 

She gave him a curious sideways glance, tilting her head as her eyes swept his face. "I can always count on you." Her gaze made him feel completely exposed, as though she could see right through him.

 

He turned back to face the gardens below, clearing his throat in an attempt to dispel the tension, but he could still feel her eyes on him. "What?"

 

"I like the beard."

 

He lifted a hand to feel the recent addition to his face, then chuckled.

 

"What's so funny?"

 

"Honestly? Your brother may have encouraged it: he said you'd approve."

 

"He is such an indecorous reprobate."

 

He laughed out loud. "He said you'd say that."

 

Her relentless stare was beginning to make him nervous.

 

"It is kind of a shame though: to deprive Thedas of such a handsome face."

 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You know, I think that might just be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

 

"No way." She argued. "What about...that time when...didn't I - well, shit." She sighed with a chuckle. "Okay, so I may not have actually said them out loud...but I did occasionally think nice things."

 

"Such as?" He smirked, completely expecting a refusal to comment.

 

"Your smile," She immediately responded, her serious tone startling him in to silence. "When you weren't expecting to see me." She looked down shyly for just a moment before meeting his gaze. "It was a real winner."

 

"I - thank you."

 

"Don't get all gushy on me." She rolled her eyes as she somewhat nervously wiped down the front of her dress. "I was just proving a point."

 

She turned to leave, but the declaration came tumbling out of his mouth like word vomit. "I don't think I've ever met another woman as beautiful as you."

 

Stood with her back to him, she stopped and turned her head just enough to see the edge of him in her peripherals. "And there you just reminded me why I never complimented you."

 

"What?"

 

"I knew you'd feel compelled to return the sentiment."

 

"Only because I mean it." He argued. Why was she always so damn prickly?

 

"Yeah, sure, thanks." She took a step towards the door but he put a hand on her shoulder and span her around.

 

She gripped his wrist as though fighting off an attacker, and he reacted on instinct, backing her roughly in to the door. They stared silently at each other, panting slightly; though not from exertion.

 

"Andraste preserve me, but I really want to fuck you in that dress."

 

Her eyes darkened as her lips curled up in to a devilish grin. "I might be tempted, if my attire would allow it."

 

He gave her a look of confusion, so she grasped her skirt and parted it down the middle; revealing her leather clad legs.

 

"Makers breath, how many weapons do you have under there?"

 

She giggled as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back towards her.

 

"Later?" He optimistically urged, pressing a manipulative thigh between her legs.

 

"That depends: you going to get all _relationshipy_ on me again?"

 

"Right now I just want to tear your clothes off with my teeth."

 

He leaned in to kiss her, but she intercepted him with the tips of her fingers. "Wouldn't want to ruin my lipstick now, would you, Commander?"

 

He growled as he pressed himself more firmly against her, then leaned in to place a kiss on the angle of her jaw right by her ear. "I am going to take you so many times tonight that you'll be walking funny for a week."

 

"Promises, promises." She took a deep breath, expanding her rib cage to press her breasts up against him. "Until then."

 

He almost tripped when she opened the door he'd been leaning on and slipped out of his grasp.

 

_That fucking woman._

 

...

 

He found her later in her private guest suite, after their clever meddling had put Gaspard on the Throne with Briala pulling his strings.

 

She was looking out over the vast gardens from the balcony, clad only in a short silk negligee, when she heard him approach.

 

“There you are.” She felt his breath on the back of her neck as he snaked his arms around her waist. “Are you all right?”

 

She let her head fall backwards on to his shoulder, cradling his arms with her own.

 

He buried his face in her hair, sampling her scent, before pressing a kiss behind her ear.

 

“Your beard tickles.” She chuckled, wincing slightly.

 

He loosened his arms around her waist then moved one hand up to her breast and the other down to the hem of her nightie.

 

"Now isn't a good time." She stayed his wandering hand, trapping it against her thigh.

 

“Piss on that.” He almost growled. “I've been half-hard all night thinking about this.”

 

She turned on the spot to face him. "All right then." She acquiesced. "Don't say I didn't warn you though."

 

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, and didn't particularly care. He picked her up off the floor and carried her inside, where he swiftly deposited her on the unusually high bed (high enough for him to remain standing, he'd noticed) and eagerly ripped open the front of her negligee, loudly tearing the expensive material and exposing her bare chest to the frigid air.

 

Lips locked together, he blindly slipped his fingers in to the waistband of her smalls and frantically slid them down her legs. He untied the fastenings of his own breaches as she desperately clung to him, chewing on his bottom lip as she grabbed greedy handfuls of his tamed blonde curls.

 

He freed himself, his pants falling to and stopping at his knees, then with one fluid motion they became one.

 

"Fuck." He loudly admonished, digging his fingers in to her hips. "You're so fucking wet."

 

He bent her backwards as his thrusts turned frantic; their moans and slapping flesh easily matched in volume by the obscenely wet sounds of their joining.

 

Her fingers against his scalp pulled tight fistfuls of hair as she crested surprisingly quickly, and he soon followed, collapsing on to her as she fell backwards on to the bed; legs dangling off the edge.

 

He dropped his head on to her shoulder, panting as he continued to twitch inside of her. "I really needed that."

 

He reluctantly slipped free then stood and offered her a hand to help her stand.

 

"Maker's breath, Olivia, did I hurt you!?" There was blood everywhere, as though he'd split her in two.

 

She chuckled, darkly. "When I said it wasn't a good time, I meant _of the month_."

 

It took him a few seconds to catch her meaning, the horrified blush heating his cheeks like an open flame. "Why didn't you stop me!?"

 

"I did try to warn you.” She humorously scolded him.

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I've never...during - have you done that before?"

 

Without a word, she sauntered over to the wash basin to clean herself.

 

He looked dejectedly at the floor, mistaking her lack of response as a yes. His eyes snapped up to her reflection in the mirror at her heavy sigh.

 

"No." She somewhat reluctantly confessed, before handing him a clean rag.

 

“I liked it." He watched the corner of her mouth twitch, trying to suppress a smile. "I mean, if you ever wanted to...do it again." He grinned. "I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

 

"Don't push it, Rutherford." She prodded him in the chest before wrapping her arms around his neck and coaxing him in to a lazy kiss.

 

"If you don't put some clothes on soon, I'm afraid I'll not be liable for my actions."

 

"Then have your way with me, Commander. We still have a ways to go if you truly wish to affect my ability to walk."

 

He bit her neck then hoisted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pressed her against the nearest wall, trapping her between his warm body and the cold stone. He surmised that a woman's monthly bleed was the perfect lubricant as he easily slid back inside of her. He stayed his hips as he kissed a path along her collar bone, then ran the tip of his nose from the hollow of her throat up to her chin. He marvelled at the unusual colour of her eyes (green as veridium with a ring of redish-hazel around her pupils), for perhaps the hundredth time, the beautiful image and the glorious feel of her overriding his other senses.

 

"You are...exquisite." It was a benediction.

 

Her face took on that serious edge that always worried him, the one she got whenever she didn't quite know how to deal with a situation; and was liable to say something rash or regrettable.

 

"And your tits are phenomenal." He quickly added, attempting to distract her.

 

It worked. She laughed then hungrily descended on his mouth, eagerly seeking his tongue with her own as she began to rub herself against him in encouragement.

 

True to his word, he took her so many times that she had some difficulty riding her horse the following day. Every time she grimaced at a particularly rough jostle, he found himself smirking at the memories of their long night together.

 

They didn't speak much afterwards, before he returned to his own room, but she'd already made it pretty clear it was never going to be anything more than sex: astonishing, incomparable and utterly transcendent sex.

 

Perhaps he could learn to live with that.

 

 

 

 

  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the scene that started it all. See end of chapter for the amazing talents of @samusisagirl ! You're welcome people.

**Skyhold**

 

She and Dorian had invaded the plush comfort of Vivienne's balcony almost as soon as night had fallen, all three of them supping on something vile she'd pilfered from Bull's personal stock as they bitched about everything and nothing.

 

"See something interesting, my dear?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You've been glancing at the Commanders office all evening. I just wondered if Dorian and I were missing something?"

 

Dorian gave the enchantress a look that revealed far more than he should have.

 

"I see." She sounded like a disapproving mother hen. "You realise there is little to be gained and much to be lost here, yes?"

 

"Don't worry, mother.” She grumbled. “It's purely recreational."

 

Dorian gave a huff of disbelief.

 

"It is!" She protested.

 

"Me think the lady doth protest too much."

 

“The lady doth protest just enough.” She retorted.

 

"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say you'd developed actual feelings for him."

 

"Ha!" She cringed at her own unconvincing tone.

 

"Oh my blushing butt cheeks, you have!"

 

“Don't be ridiculous.”

 

“You _like_ him!” He pointed an accusing finger at her, as though she'd committed some heinous crime.

 

“Dorian!”

 

“Oh how precious. The ice queen has finally found someone to melt away her cold exterior.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Too much? Sorry, cousin.” He'd taken to calling her _cousin_ ever since he'd discovered a Trevelyan on his distant family tree.

 

"It hardly matters how I feel, right Vivienne?"

 

"Darling, I've spent the majority of my adult life playing the role of mistress to a man almost twenty years my senior. I'm probably not the best person to consult on such matters."

 

"All right." She caved, throwing her hands up in the air. "It's true. I like him." She fell backwards on to the chaise and covered her face with her hands. “I'm so screwed.”

 

"So why are you up here drinking with us and not down there wrapping him around your little finger like I've seen you do a hundred times?"

 

"We're...not right for each other."

 

"I'd say you were practically perfect, actually."

 

"Underneath everything, sure - but do you honestly think my father would approve? Plus he just...doesn't know what he's getting in to."

 

"Well that's definitely a conversation for another day, but right now just switch your brain off for a bit, hmm? We could all very well die tomorrow. Nobody is saying you have to marry this man, for Andraste's sake, just have some fun - while you still can."

 

"You're right.” She sat up straight. “The Inquisition won't last forever, and when this is all over we'll both just go our separate ways - right?"

 

"Of course." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he coaxed her to her feet, casting a glance at Vivienne to give her a discreet _what bullshit_ head shake. "Now why don't you go talk to him and see what's what?"

 

"It's late.” It was a pretty poor reason, considering most of their encounters had taken place at much later hours than this. “ _And_ I'm a little tipsy."

 

"Excuses, excuses. Go. Now. I insist."

 

"Fine." She grumbled.

 

She raced back to her quarters to freshen up, dressing herself solely in a flimsy robe for easy access. She stealthed along the battlements to his office and waltzed in like she owned the place, loudly bolting the door behind her.

 

"Olivia?" She could have sworn she heard the smile in his sleepy voice.

 

She stood at the foot of the ladder looking up, where he was peering down at her with predatory eyes.

 

"Coming down to play?" She purred in her most sultry of voices.

 

"Why don't you come up here?"

 

"Because _I_ want you to come down _here_." She retorted like the brat that she was. Everything was, and would always be, such a power struggle between them - and she loved it.

 

He chuckled to himself before easily acquiescing and began making his way down to her.

 

She slowly circled him until his feet touched the ground, then stopped just out of reach in front of him.

 

"Hi." He smirked, her hungry gaze setting him on edge.

 

"Strip." She commanded.

 

His one-sided smirk turned in to a full blown smile as he obeyed and divested himself of his sleep pants. Having already been shirtless, he was naked rather quickly.

 

She salaciously appraised him from head to toe. "Sit." She tilted her head towards the desk.

 

He huffed, humorously, but once again did as instructed.

 

She watched him as he made himself comfortable, his arousal becoming increasingly evident under her lingering gaze. She held up a finger when he opened his mouth to speak, then slowly shook her head. She took a step closer as she untied her robe, revealing herself to be completely naked beneath, then pulled it off her shoulders and let it fall slowly to the floor.

 

She watched his chest rise and fall as he eagerly took in the sight of her, his fingers twitching on the desk beside him as if trying to suppress the urge to reach for her.

 

She silently closed the distance between them, then lifted one foot off the floor to place a knee on the desk beside him. A little too eager, he grabbed her by the arse and hoisted her up until she straddled him. She placed a hand on his chest to keep him at arms length, earning her a feral growl.

 

He splayed one hand on her back, attempting to pull her close enough to kiss, but instead she grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head backwards with so much force that he had to release his hold on her to keep himself upright.

 

She leaned forwards to nibble his scarred lip, and that was all the invitation he needed.

 

He pulled her close, his fingers buried in her hair, and kissed her until their lips were swollen.

 

She roughly pushed him back to gain access to the steel rod currently trapped between them, then lifted herself just enough to lay it flat beneath her. She slowly rocked her hips over him, sliding along his length from base to tip. She could feel his bulbous head slide between her arse cheeks each time she reached the base of him, and thought once again just how lucky she was to have stumbled upon such a treat.

 

He seized his opportunity when she slid over his tip, tilting his hips just so. She let out a startled moan when he grabbed her hips and slammed her down on to him, refusing to allow her tease to continue.

 

She stilled, his eager cock seated deeply, then pried his fingers off her backside and forced his hands on to the desk behind him. He seemed to understand, and obediently maintained his position. She rewarded him with a kiss, running tender fingers through his hair before roughly yanking his head back, then began to move.

 

She fixed him with a stare, determined not to break eye contact, as she rose and fell at a slowly quickening pace. His brow furrowed with the effort it took not to touch her and his nostrils flared when she let out a breathy sigh.

 

She placed a hand on his chest, putting all her weight on to him; certain in her knowledge that he could easily bare it, then began vigorously grinding herself against him. She cried out when he tilted his hips slightly, seating himself even deeper.

 

"Don't move, don't move." She began to chant as she approached the precipice. She threw her head back and howled as her climax hit with so much force she thought she might pass out.

 

“Please let me touch you.” He all but growled, and as soon as she nodded her assent he grabbed her arse and guided her in a few more furious thrusts before pulling her tightly to him and spilling inside her.

 

His face twitched in time with his cock as they pressed their foreheads together.

 

“I'm sorry.” He breathlessly apologised.

 

“Don't worry about it.” She reassured him. “I have some herbs - they taste like shit...but I think that was worth it.”

 

He chuckled before pulling her in to a slow kiss, then re-positioned them both on the desk so they could lie flat on their backs; legs dangling off the edge.

 

With her head on his shoulder, she idly ran her fingers through his chest hair as she listened to his panting breaths gradually return to normal. With the arm he had wrapped around her, he lazily stroked his thumb up and down the length of her arm.

 

"I can't believe I'm about to say this.” His deep voice was barely a whisper, so she tilted her head to watch his beautiful mouth. "If this is just sex, I...don't think I can do it."

 

She propped herself up on her elbow beside him. "Why not? I'm fairly certain we've both lived our entire adult lives desiring nothing more than casual sex. What's changed?"

 

He smirked. "Believe me, no one is more surprised by this than I am." He rolled on to his side, mimicking her pose and trying not to fall off the desk. "I suppose I could try to blame it on me not being a Templar any more, but I know that's not it." He pushed her long red hair over her shoulder then leaned in to place a lingering kiss on the newly exposed flesh. "Whatever this is, it feels...different - and I'm afraid there's only one plausible explanation."

 

"Which is?" She prompted when he seemed content to leave her at the mercy of dreaded anticipation.

 

He chuckled then licked his lips. "I'm hopelessly infatuated with you, Trevelyan."

 

"Shut up." She deflected, nervously punching him in the shoulder. "Maker, you sound like such a girl sometimes."

 

He laughed out loud before pulling her close to claim her lips. Her hand slowly crept it's way up his chest and in to his hair. She wasn't ready for it to end, and was startled by the quick kiss he placed on the tip of her nose; reflexively swatting him away.

 

"I mean it.” She playfully tried to resist as he pulled her closer. “I'm crazy about you."

 

Her smile abruptly disappeared at his unfortunate choice of words. "What do you want from me, Cullen?" She sat up straight, presenting him with her back as she hugged her knees to her chest.

 

The desk creaked beneath them as he moved to sit beside her. She tried not to smile as he leaned in to pepper her neck and shoulder with kisses, shuddering as he whispered "Just you" in her ear before tracing the outline with the tip of his nose.

 

She turned to face him and slowly walked two fingers up his chest until her hand was on his shoulder. She looked him in the eyes and sighed, then cocked her leg over to straddle his lap. "You don't know what you'd be getting yourself in to."

 

His hands slowly worked their way up her thighs, over her bottom and on to her back. She loved the way his hands felt on her back, the sheer size of them blanketing the expanse of flesh almost completely. He pressed a lingering kiss to each breast before pulling her closer to mould their bodies tightly together, and she couldn't resist the urge to lean in and taste that damnable scar.

 

"So why don't you tell me?" He whispered, before pulling her in to an all consuming kiss that made her head spin.

 

She managed to - rather reluctantly - wrestle free from his lips, then squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed her forehead to his. "There are things you don't know about me - things I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to share with you."

 

He could tell from her stiff posture that now was not the time to push her to open up to him. "I'll make you a deal." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'll allow you unreserved access to _this_ ," He gestured to his body as though it were a divine treat (and to be frank, it was). "Whenever you like, _provided_ you allow me believe there's no one else."

 

“You'd be happy with that?”

 

“Not really, but I'm hoping you'll eventually realise we were made for each other.”

 

She rolled her eyes and sighed, feigning annoyance. "Fine."

 

"I'm going to need to hear you say _yes,_ Trevelyan."

 

"And I'm going to need you to make me." She sultrily goaded.

 

And so he did. He all but carried her to bed and proceeded to pleasure her relentlessly until she screamed the word over and over like a heavenly prayer to some erotic deity.

 

As they lay side by side in a state of post-orgasmic bliss, he abruptly sat up and scooted backwards to lean against the headboard. “I'm curious about something.”

 

She eyed him suspiciously before scooting closer to lay her cheek on his thigh. “Go on.”

 

“I was just wondering which of your parents you take after? Looks-wise, I mean.”

 

Her heart began to race at the thought, but she didn't let it show. She rolled on to her back, resting her head on his lap to look directly up at him with an (unbeknown to him) fake smile plastered on her face. “My brother and I favour our mother, though we both inherited the quintessential Trevelyan hair; much to our fathers delight.”

 

“Tell me about her. I've heard you speak of your brother and father before, but never your mother. Are the two of you not close?”

 

“She...died.” She stared in to space as she attempted to hide any hint of the pain that was constantly lurking just beneath the surface.

 

"I'm sorry, Olivia, I -”

 

“It's all right. I was sixteen, ten years is hardly recent.”

 

“What happened?"

 

“Must we speak of this?” She climbed on top of him and began pressing their groins together. Sex was always a sure fire way to quash the lingering pains of her past.

 

"I lost both of my parents during the blight." He offered, seemingly wishing to even the score sheet for shared pain.

 

“I'm sorry.” She looked sympathetic for all of three seconds. “Are we done sharing now?”

 

He rolled his eyes and huffed, a little disappointed by her reluctance to share. "Sure."

 

"Then shut up and fuck me some more."

 

"As you command, Lady Herald."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about any nonsensical bits you may have noticed in previous chapters. I had already written a lot of this story before posting, but then moved some later paragraphs to earlier chapters and missed a few necessary edits. Nothing major that will affect the story, just a bit of dialogue. All fixed now :)


	10. Happy Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little porn-without-plot, from me to you on Valentine's Day.
> 
> (Yes, I know Valentine's Day doesn't exist in Thedas)

"Inquisitor, do you have a moment - why are you smiling?” The poor man sounded so suspicious, being met by such an unusually cheery Inquisitor.

 

“Mmm, I just had _the_ best massage.” She all but purred, just about ready to float away with the wind.

 

“From who?” He was clearly shocked by his accusatory tone, instantly relaxing his furrowed brow.

 

“A professional.” She humorously huffed. “I could hook you up if you like, the woman has magic hands - I have _never_ felt so limber.”

 

Words failed him when she raised her arms up high above her head, stretching out her back and inadvertently drawing his attention to her jutted breasts; unbound beneath the loose vest she wore.

 

"Commander?” She prompted, trying not to smirk. “You needed something?"

 

"The cells," He almost shouted, shaking the blatantly lustful thoughts from his mind. "I had some ideas on reconstruction - I wondered if I could get your opinion?"

 

"Despite what you may have heard about me, prison cells are not really my forte." She chuckled.

 

"It will only take a moment." He promised, with a handsome smile.

 

"All right.” She acquiesced. “Lead the way."

 

They descended the steps in a comfortable silence - she felt so serene in her post-massage haze. She nodded to the guard on duty as they entered the room, then turned to Cullen to await further direction. She saw him give the guard a nod, and then the woman abruptly left before he bolted the door behind her.

 

"Cullen, if you brought me all the way down here just for some kinky prison sex -"

 

"I didn't - well not _just_ ," He winked. "I'm told you spend a lot of time by the waterfall."

 

"I find it soothing.” She admitted. “It helps me think."

 

"Well, I might have made a few adjustments." He confessed, opening the door and ushering her inside.

 

"Adjustments -" She gasped when she saw the once decrepit cavern, which was now littered with cushions, blankets and platters of food and wine. The loose bricks and fallen planks had been cleared away, the walkway had been scrubbed clean and there were at least a hundred lit candles strewn about the place.

 

She eventually turned back to face him, having twirled countless times to take in all the little details. "Did you do this for me?"

 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Trevelyan."

 

She did another giggly twirl, then threw herself down on to the nearest pile of cushions with a delighted sigh. "I am _never_ leaving this place."

 

"You like it then?" He apparently still needed reassurance despite her clearly approving reaction.

 

"I -" She quickly reconsidered her impulsive response. "It's amazing."

 

"Good." He looked utterly pleased with himself. "Wine?"

 

"Don't mind if I do."

 

He poured them a goblet each then sat down beside her, popping a few grapes in his mouth as she continued to marvel at the effort he'd gone to.

 

"Now, about that kinky prison sex..."

 

"Behave." She playfully smacked his chest. "You, sir, are incorrigible."

 

"Me!?" He laughed. "You are _so_ much worse than I am."

 

"So you think this is a done deal, then?"

 

"Are you seriously _not_ going to put out after all the effort I've gone to, _just_ to prove a point?"

 

She stroked her chin, looking contemplatively off to one side. "Probably...not."

 

"I don't know if I believe you, Trevelyan. I think I may just have to take you right now before you change your mind."

 

Goblet discarded, she quickly rolled out of his reach then fled to the nearest intact cell. "Shall I play the helpless prisoner?"

 

He shook his head, smirking to himself, but only for a second before he was on his feet and just inches away from her. "What are you doing out of your cell, convict?"

 

His sharp tone and the serious look on his face made her undergarments feel like she'd just sat in a puddle.

 

"Please don't tell on me, kind sir, I'll do anything." She bit her lip and fluttered her lashes as she hooked a finger beneath the already wide neckline of her vest and pulled it to one side; making it gape.

 

"I'll not tell a soul." He whispered as he ran a finger down her chest, from the hollow of her throat to her cleavage. "If you let me fill that pretty little cunt of yours." He gripped the neck of her vest with both hands and tore it clean open from hem to hem.

 

"You brute." She cried out in fake protest, so convincing that she had to flash him a quick wink before he continued.

 

"Quiet, you!" He roared, spinning her around and pressing her forcefully in to the cell bars. "You will not move unless I tell you to."

 

It was apparently a rhetorical command, as he immediately dropped to his knees and dragged her pants and smalls down to her ankles. He cupped her buttocks and gently parted them, before laving his tongue from her slit to her tight little ring.

 

She whimpered when he began focusing his attention on the her virginal arsehole: circling it with the tip of his tongue then running the flat of it up her cleft. Despite her many, _many_ previous lovers, she had _never_ allowed anyone to do this to her. As surprisingly good as it felt, she was relieved that he seemed uninterested in probing any deeper.

 

He delivered a semi-painful bite to each butt cheek before returning to his full height, and she heard him unbuckling his belt as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "This will not be gentle."

 

She wailed when he slid over her moistened arsehole and in to her dripping core, spearing her with his entire length as he pressed her almost-painfully in to the cold steel.

 

His white-knuckled grip on the bars at either side of her allowed him to slam into her with so much force she actually thought he might split her open. But she welcomed it, hoped for it even, to be left so visually marred by the intensity of his passion.

 

She watched his tightening grip become ever tighter, and she knew he was close, but instead of finishing he abruptly pulled out, span her around to face him and fell once again to his knees. He assaulted her abused cunt with his lips and tongue until her knees trembled so violently she had to hold on to the bars to stop herself from sliding to the ground.

 

As soon her more intense moans subsided in favour of heavy panting, he was back on his feet and slamming back in to her. He lifted one leg over his hip and she knew by the cutting press of his fingers on her thigh that he was _so_ close.

 

"Wait." She cried out, pushing him just far enough away that he slipped out of her, then fell to her knees before him. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue ready to catch his spend. She pumped him a few times until he began to release his load - the first landing on her tongue, then she devilishly angled him with a calculated precision; so that each subsequent deposit landed on her face.

 

She looked demurely up at him as he loomed over her, eyes glazed with temporarily sated desire. She rapturously licked her lips, tasting his seed and making lustfully appreciative noises. “Happy Valentines Day to you too, Rutherford."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Immediately following chapter 9...**

 

"You know, I'm starting to think you're only using me for my body." Cullen hissed as she reached for him for the third time that morning.

 

She looked up at him with innocent eyes, biting her lip. "What ever gave you that idea?"

 

"Can we not have at least a little conversation?"

 

She rolled on top of him and slowly kissed her way down his body. "But there are so many other things I could be doing with my mouth."

 

"Tempting, as that sounds -" He grabbed her upper arms and effortlessly dragged her back up the length of his body, where she immediately began nibbling his earlobe. "I'd like to get to know you better, Trevelyan."

 

She stilled in her ministrations and he felt a puff of air on his neck from her irritable exhale before she rolled off of him and sat on the edge of the bed, planting her feet firmly on the floor. "Way to kill the mood, Rutherford."

 

He joined her on the edge of the bed, dragging the sheet over to cover himself, feeling all-of-a-sudden exposed. "Just give me one valid reason why I shouldn't, and I promise not to ask again."

 

"Because I don't want to?" She childishly snapped, her eyes darting wildly around the room in a desperate bid to avoid eye contact.

 

"Hey." He cradled her face with both hands, directing her to look at him. "Talk to me, Olivia. You can tell me anything; I wont judge you."

 

She bit her lip despite the overwhelming anxiety, hearing her name from him never failed to arouse her.

 

"Would it help if I told you something about me?" He raised his thick, masculine eyebrows in question. "Something I don't usually like to talk about?"

 

"I would never ask you to do that."

 

"You're not asking; I'm offering."

 

She contemplatively glanced at the ceiling for a second. "Can we fuck while you talk?"

 

"Well it's kind of a sad story," He smirked. "But...whatever blows the wind up your skirt." His speech trailed off in to a quite moan as she quickly straddled his lap and lifted herself just enough to slowly sink back down on to him.

 

She undulated at a super-slow pace, drawing long-deep breaths in time with her movements. She leaned forwards to languidly kiss him, then prompted him to begin his tale.

 

"You know I served in Ferelden, before Kirkwall?"

 

She nodded, lazily rolling her hips.

 

"Do you know why I left?"

 

She shook her head, giving one deliberately rough thrust and causing him to bury his fingers in to the flesh of her hips.

 

"This is very distracting." He whispered, eyes shut tight as he tried to centre himself. His eyes snapped back open when she halted her movements. "I didn't say stop."

 

She chuckled then resumed her languorous pace as he ran one hand up the length of her spine and lightly gripped the nape of her neck.

 

"The Circle fell prey to blood magic." Each of his slow, deep breaths caressed her shoulder; fluttering her blood-red tresses and making her skin tingle. "Demon's and abomination's murdered my friends and held me captive."

 

She hesitated in her movements, her heart clenching within her chest as she worried if her suggestion of _sex and talk_ wasn't wildly inappropriate. But then his hands were on her hips and he was guiding her movements, ever so slightly quicker than before.

 

"They..." He groaned as she ground herself against him. "...tortured me - tried to break me." He squeezed her hips a little harder. "How can you be the same person after that?"

 

She gave in to the urge to nibble his scar, and wondered for the first time if it's creation actually held some terrible memory for him.

 

"My superiors felt it would be best if I moved on, they didn't trust me to be unbiased towards the remaining mage's." He peppered her collar bone with light kisses. "And to be honest, I'm not sure I would have been."

 

She dragged her fingers through his hair and along his scalp, redoubling her efforts to bring him pleasure.

 

"I still have nightmares about those days." He moved both hands to her back and pressed their bodies together. "And they're even worse since -" He abruptly cut himself off, sliding his fingers in to her hair and pulling her in to a bruising kiss.

 

The talking ceased as the movement of her pelvis increased in pace, until she threw her head back and cried out to the heavens. She continued to lazily roll her hips through both their ends, until he all-but begged her to stop; no longer able to handle the intense sensation.

 

He leisurely covered her neck and chest with open-mouthed kisses as she idly ran her fingers through his now wild curls.

 

He pressed his forehead to her chest and sighed, his warm breath cooling the sheen of perspiration on her stomach; making her muscles twitch.

 

When he lifted his head to look at her, she tried not to laugh at the state of his usually perfect hair; her wandering hands had really made a mess of it.

 

"Your turn." He smirked.

 

“I'm to match that story, am I?” There was only one she could think of, but she wasn't about to share every detail of it just yet. “Fine,” She huffed. “But you're giving me a back rub.”

 

She reluctantly allowed him to slip free, the resulting evidence of their coupling dribbling down her thigh, and re-positioned herself on the bed. She felt some of his weight settle on the backs of her thighs as he straddled her legs, and groaned when he began kneading the knots of tension at the base of her spine.

 

"Don't speak until I'm done." She commanded, before taking a deep breath. "You know my mother died?”

 

His hands began a blissfully repetitive dance of caressing and kneading the flesh of her back, from her neck and shoulders down to her buttocks.

 

“But what you don't know is that she actually killed herself.”

 

His fingertips dug a little firmer in to her skin at her startling confession, but he said nothing; as she'd requested.

 

"The night it happened, she came to my room while I was sleeping. I woke to her singing a lullaby - she had such a beautiful voice - but she was crying.”

 

She groaned at the pleasurable pain as he worked on a particularly tense knot in her shoulder.

 

“We spoke some, but I couldn't stop her. She slit her wrists right in front of me. I still dream about the blood - Maker there was so much of it.” She shivered.

 

There was so much more to the story than she was telling him, but she'd decided just to give him the public version of events...for now.

 

"She died with a smile on her face.”

 

She was quiet for a moment as she recalled her mothers final days - memories which had become clearer since Adamant and her accidental trip to the Fade. She mustered up all her courage and turned on to her back to face him. He immediately pressed himself on top of her, stroking her hair as he gazed sympathetically in to her eyes.

 

He kissed her then, sweet and slow and full of feeling.

 

"Why me?” She suddenly blurted. “I'm not nice, Cullen. I'm moody and I'm irritable - and that's just on a good day. You could have any woman you wanted."

 

"I feel like I've finally met my match with you.” He spoke with such conviction. “Yes, you are on occasion surly and disagreeable, but to be honest...it kind of turns me on."

 

"You're not normal, are you?"

 

"I think that's my point." He chuckled. "We've both been through things that nobody should have to experience, and so I think we understand each other better than anyone else ever could. We're well matched, Trevelyan. Don't you think?"

 

She cradled his face with both hands and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "If you tell anyone what I'm about to say, I will murder you in your sleep."

 

He gulped.

 

"I like you, Cullen."

 

"Maker's breath woman, coming on a little strong aren't we?"

 

"Just shut up and listen." She humorously chided. "Do you know how many people I've taken to my own _literal_ bed?"

 

He raised a questioning eyebrow, unsure if her answer would turn him in to a green eyed monster, until she slowly presented him with one, single finger.

 

He prodded his own chest in question, his face a picture of dumbfounded pride. "Just me?"

 

"Just you." She confirmed, in a sweeter tone than he'd ever thought her capable, but then ruined the moment by adding "You big idiot."

 

She wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him in to a desperate kiss, revelling in the almost crushing-weight of him on top of her.

 

“There is no way in Thedas my father will approve of this.” As if that were the only reason not to enter in to a relationship with anyone. But if they both agreed that said relationship would expire with the Inquisition, then what was the harm?

 

“Can your father not be reasoned with? Perhaps if I spoke to him -”

 

“No!” She startled “Maker's fucking ball sack, Cullen, he'd murder you.”

 

“I'd like to see him try.” He snorted, derisively.

 

“Tell me, when you picture my father is he just some feeble old Lord who has his servants peel grapes for him? Because that could not be further from the truth. He's big, and tough, and mean, and I would not want to see who came out of that fight on top.”

 

He huffed as though unafraid, but she could tell he was wary. And so he should be. Her father had dealt with a number of her past _unsanctioned associates_ harshly - she did not want to see the same thing happen to Cullen.

 

“Even if you could convince him.” She reluctantly appended. “There are other reasons why we can't be together. Valid reasons.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“I...would rather not discuss them - and its a moot point anyway.”

 

“You and your secrets.” He shook his head.

 

“However,” She cradled his face with both hands, sliding her fingers in to his hair. “If you still want us to be... _exclusive_ ,” She grimaced, comically. “I might be okay with that - provided it stays between us. We cannot risk word of this getting back to my father.”

 

“You wouldn't sleep with anyone else?” He caressed her cheek as though she were some priceless treasure. The promise of monogamy had clearly blinded him to the dangers of Lord Trevelyan.

 

She sighed, allowing him his moment. “Not a soul.”

 

“But we'd have to hide our relationship from everyone?” His brow furrowed at the prospect.

 

“Yes.” She leaned in close to whisper sensually in his ear. “It would be our dirty...little...secret.”

 

He growled something unintelligible and in a flash she found herself impaled. He stared down at her, a feral look of wild lust in his eyes - but then it softened to that of an honest affection. “It isn't exactly how I hoped this would go - but I'd be a fool to refuse you.”

 

He, what could only be described as, made love to her then. She'd never felt such a strong affection for anyone. It frightened her a little, but she told herself it would not stop her from walking away when duty inevitably called - for his sake, above all else.

 

She just hoped she was right.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some more porn-without-plot...

Since they'd made their relationship exclusive, she was spending as much time as she possibly could back at Skyhold - though without shirking her duties, of course - and spent almost every spare minute she had with the Commander between her legs.

 

She'd just returned from an almost month long tour of The Hissing Wastes - that place was seriously huge and seriously fucked up. She'd touched herself every single night since leaving Skyhold to the memory of their last carnal encounter, and was now in desperate need of the real thing.

 

His lips were on her in an instant, exactly as hard as she'd been fantasising all day. She dug her fingers in to his shoulders as he effortlessly picked her up and deposited her on to the desk, wrapping her legs around his hips. He was already hard - just as she was wet. She groaned when he ground himself against her, then gasped as he ripped open the front of her tunic, sending buttons scattering off in every direction.

 

He literally growled as he appraised her bare skin, clearly delighted with her lack of underwear. He dipped his head to take a stiff pink nipple in to his mouth as his large hands roamed underneath her ruined tunic, hungrily caressing her skin before settling on her back to hold her still. She marvelled at the enormity of them, certain she could feel a thumb on one side of her and his little finger on the other.

 

She dropped her head back as he kissed his way down her stomach, unaware of his surprisingly nimble hands unlacing her trousers. He hooked his fingers beneath her waistband and she needed little prompting to lift herself up so that he could pull them down her legs and fling them across the room.

 

He slowly kissed his way along her thigh, grazing her soft flesh with his stubble as he switched to her other leg, purposefully neglecting her centre.

 

"You're going to make me beg aren't you?" She panted.

 

He locked eyes with her and smiled as he snaked his arms beneath her thighs, grabbing the globes of her arse and roughly pulling her to the edge of the desk for maximum exposure, then slowly laved her with his tongue.

 

She whimpered as he proceeded to tease her with light licks and gentle sucks. Growing impatient she slid her fingers in to his thick blond hair then pressed his face tightly to her, demanding rougher attention. That was apparently all the prompting he needed and she had to bite down on her knuckle to stifle the embarrassingly loud moans he so artfully cultivated from her.

 

Her breath was becoming erratic as he focused his attention on her pearl and she fell backwards with a loud wail when he inserted one large finger in to her welcoming warmth. She thought she heard a groan from him as he squeezed in a second finger, but it was drowned out by a knock at the door.

 

" _Fuck off!_ " She shouted at the unwelcome intruder, digging her heels in to his back so that he wouldn't pull away. She felt his shoulders shake as he tried in vain to suppress his laughter. "Please don't stop." She begged, bucking her hips to rub herself against his tongue.

 

Her grip in his hair tightened as he brought her closer to her peak. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't...stop." She arched her back then fell backwards with a thud as she plummeted in to the abyss, writhing on his desk as he continued to stimulate her through her much-needed release.

 

She released the handful of curls and stretched her arms out above her head as she lay panting and naked on his desk, a blissful sheen of perspiration glistening in the moonlight, giving her the appearance of some ethereal sex goddess.

 

He rose to his feet and gripped her wrists to pull her upright, then hungrily kissed her. She could taste her release on his tongue and it drove her wild for more.

 

"I have missed the taste of you." He whispered, pulling away just far enough to focus on her face.

 

“As I have missed the feel of your cock inside me.” She smirked “What say we remedy that?”

 

He moved back enough to let her past. “After you.” He bowed and gestured towards the ladder.

 

After five or six steps up she felt his hand encircle her ankle, halting her from going any further. She looked down at him only to find him entranced by her spread wide before him. Before she could even bite her lip he had his face buried between her arse cheeks, lapping at her greedily from front to back. She almost lost her footing when he spanked her – though it sounded more painful than it actually was.

 

“Up.” He growled. “Now.”

 

She ascended the rest of the ladder at a rather impressive speed and by the time he'd emerged through the gap in the floor, she was sitting obediently on the edge of his bed. Her heart pounded with anticipation as the dark look in his eye promised much more pleasure.

 

He undressed as he approached, never taking his eyes off her. She bit her lip and sighed as the master-work that was his body was laid bare before her. She reached out to touch him, but he gripped her by the wrist, infuriatingly denying her. She scowled for just a second before he commanded her to “open”.

 

She licked her lips, leaving them open just a fraction for him. He palmed himself a few times, then stepped closer to rest his tip on her plump bottom lip. She licked away the bead of pre-cum that had gathered, closing her eyes and making an appreciative groan of delectation.

 

“Open.” He demanded again, this time through gritted teeth as though he was just a fraction of a second away from completely losing his composure.

 

She opened her mouth wide and slowly enveloped his engorged head, sliding her tongue along the underside of his length.

 

“Look at me.” His words came out fast as his breath hitched.

 

She immediately locked her eyes on his, pupils blown so wide that the warm amber was no longer visible, then took him deep in to her throat and groaned with delight.

 

“Fuck.” He quietly hissed, not so gently holding the back of her head to keep her still.

 

She didn't take her eyes off his face, making no effort to pull away as she slowly began to run out of air, trusting that he would release her eventually. She took a deep breath when he pulled out of her mouth of his own accord, before thrusting all the way back in.

 

“Fuck.” He hissed again, louder this time, almost immediately sliding back out and pulling her up to his height to stick his tongue in her mouth.

 

She moaned as the kiss quickly turned frantic, bodies pressing tightly together as greedy hands explored supple flesh. He was still standing beside the bed while she was now balancing on her knees, arms wrapped around his neck as his hands caressed her back and arse.

 

She unhooked her arms from around his neck and slowly dragged her nails down his chest to his pelvis. He bit her bottom lip when she wrapped one hand around his length and cupped his sac with the other, stroking them both as the kiss became almost violent.

 

He moved both hands to her arse, kneading the flesh for a moment before exploring fingers sought out her apex. He groaned when he felt how wet she was, circling her entrance with the tip of his finger then teasing the wetness around her puckered hole.

 

She stretched as tall as she could on her knees, sliding his glorious length between her lust-swollen folds, sighing at the friction it created against her throbbing clit.

 

He palmed her breasts with one hand while the other seemed permanently affixed to her arse. He kissed along the column of her throat and she decided she'd finally had enough of the tease.

 

She moved towards the middle of the bed, then turned away from him and dropped to her hands and knees. “Fuck me like a lion.” She demanded in a deep, demonic voice she barely recognised as her own.

 

She cried out when his palm connected loudly with her rear, then sighed when he pressed his face between her legs, slowly tasting her from clit to arsehole.

 

She felt the bed dip behind her before one hand gripped her, strong fingers digging in to the seam where thigh met hip. With his other hand he guided himself to her, rubbing the tip teasingly along her soaked folds until she whined, spine curving exquisitely to better angle herself for him.

 

Apparently done with teasing, he slowly entered her until their bodies connecting made it impossible to go any deeper. “Fuck.” He sighed as he began to withdraw, preparing to deliver the first of many powerful thrusts.

 

The sound of slapping flesh quickly became obscene as he pounded her from behind, though it was rivalled by his guttural, masculine moans. Every withdrawal had her walls clamping down on him, as if refusing to let go.

 

His large hand found it's way in to her long blood-red tresses, pulling at her scalp and bending her spine even further. She was gloriously flexible, so much so that by looming over her he was able to tilt her head back just enough to kiss her. Upside-down kisses were his new favourite; both of them able to suck on the others bottom lip at the same time.

 

She yelped each time he connected with that sweet spot deep within, and the knowledge that he was responsible for evoking such a reaction was almost enough to make him shoot his load. As it was, he managed to power through her next orgasm, though he didn't know how, pulling out just in time to spill himself on the sheets below.

 

He didn't allow her any time to notice his completion, he fully intended to take her at least once more and didn't want to give her any reason to think he was done just yet. He flipped her on to her back and buried his face between her legs, lapping at her fresh release until the intense stimulation made her tremble.

 

“I need...a minute.” She whined, writhing away from his mouth but not fully committed to being released.

 

He slowly kissed his way up her body, stopping half-way to suck on her rosy nipples, until he reached her mouth. He nibbled on her lips and she lazily responded, clearly exhausted and already half-asleep.

 

“Wake-up.” He whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck, kissing along her shoulder then clamping down with his teeth and making her yelp.

 

“Hey!” She smacked his bottom with her foot, fully conscious once again.

 

“I'm not done with you yet, Trevelyan.” He smiled down at her, mischievously, as he pulled both arms above her head and secured them in place with one hand around her wrists. “The Maker was generous when He made you.” He punctuated his meaning by palming her breast. “How can you possibly be so petite _and_ have curves like these?”

 

It was true though, people had always commented on it. They'd likened her to a tiny little hourglass; a desirous combination of round and slender. She was all legs and freckles until puberty hit, and then everybody wanted her – which she took full advantage of.

 

She was distracted from her momentary contemplation by the drag of his stubble against her breasts before he alternated worrying each nipple between his teeth until they formed stiff peaks as his fingers began to slowly stroke her folds.

 

“What say you let me take over for a while?” She breathed, beginning to pant from the pleasure his deft fingers were delivering.

 

He raised an eyebrow then rolled on to his back and pulled her on top of him.

 

She giggled as she tried to catch her bearings, pressing her palms to his solid chest as she settled her thighs around his hips.

 

He ran his hands down her back, kneading at her waist and hips before settling on her thighs.

 

She leaned forwards to kiss him again, unable to sate her hunger for that damn scar, dragging her nails down his torso until she reached his – unbeknown to her – _renewed_ erection. He dug his fingers in to her thighs as she took him in hand and began to stroke, eventually sitting back on her heels to slide her heat along his length.

 

How in Andraste's name he was still hard she had no clue. For a second she worried it hadn't been as long for him as it had for her, but she quickly put that unwelcome thought to the back of her mind.

 

She gasped when he gripped her waist and effortlessly lifted her up a few inches, just enough for her to reach down and angle him for re-entry before he basically dropped her back down. She wailed with pleasure as she consumed him in his entirety, refusing to back up even a millimetre she proceeded to grind herself against him, the tip of him working that magical spot deep within while his pubic bone stimulated her outer bundle of nerves.

 

She bit her lips as she locked eyes with him, riding harder with each passing second until he couldn't help but close his eyes as he gripped the sheets beneath him. She felt another climax nearing, and from the way his muscles tensed beneath her it seemed he wasn't far behind. She dug her fingers in to his chest as she picked up a furious pace.

 

She watched the muscles in his jaw clenching as she revelled in the constant groans slipping from his delicious mouth. A bead of sweat dripped off the end of her nose, landing in the hollow of his throat before she tossed her head back and cried out to the heavens as the world below shattered and she was thrown in to a sea of post-orgasmic bliss.

 

She was vaguely aware of his fingers digging in to the globes of her arse as he thrust upwards with each pulse of his own powerful release. They really needed to start being more careful. The herbs she took were not infallible, and taking them too often was not exactly good for ones long-term health.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

She had become somewhat of an expert dragon hunter over the past few months. Bull had convinced her that taking down the mass of dragons reported to have taken up residence in Fereldan and Orlais would be good practice for Coryphyshit's pet. She knew it was just as much about his own obsession with the magnificent beasts, having insisted he always accompany her, but she couldn't deny his logic. They'd heard of three dragons in particular in Emprise du Lion, with nests in alarmingly close proximity to one another. Hating the cold as she did, she'd insisted they take down all three before returning to Skyhold, so that they wouldn't have to return any time soon. It had taken almost three weeks, but they were finally returning home - three dragon skulls in tow.

 

She had missed her Commander during their time apart, as much as she tried to convince herself it was the sex with said man and not the person himself, and was very disappointed when she found him to be absent from the war council meeting she had been immediately ushered in to.

 

“He is not feeling very well.” Cassandra vaguely explained, incorrectly assuming that would be reason enough.

 

“Forgive me, but Cullen hardly seems the type to let a cold prevent him from his work.”

 

After some insistent prodding, Cassandra eventually admitted the truth: a secret she had kept for Cullen for the entire time she had known him.

 

She didn't stay for the rest of the meeting, immediately storming off to his office to demand to know how he could possibly have kept such a dangerous secret from her.

 

He was sitting at his desk when she barged in, and the look on her face clearly said it all.

 

"Cassandra told you, then?"

 

The weakness of his voice made her feel sick. "Would have like to have heard it from you."

 

"Look...I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but can we please discuss this later?"

 

"You know, for all your talk of wanting to get to know each other better, you've been keeping a pretty fucking big secret from me."

 

"Olivia, please..."

 

"It's kind of shady, Rutherford."

 

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but settled on an amused huff when he noticed the surprising half-smirk on her face.

 

She just couldn't stay mad at him when he looked so helpless. “Can I do anything?"

 

"You want to play Nurse?" He chuckled, disbelief evident in his tone.

 

"If it'll help." She shrugged, playfully.

 

"I'll be fine." He assured her. "I just need to sleep this migraine off."

 

"All right. Up to bed then."

 

"I just need to finish this -"

 

"Now, Commander. That's an order."

 

He wanted to argue, she could tell, but then wisely thought better of it and instead gave her an agreeable nod.

 

"I can put myself to bed you know." He half-heartedly protested when he realised she was following him up the ladder.

 

She didn't speak a word as she helped him out of his armour then lead him to bed, nor when she dampened a flannel in his wash basin and brought it back to lay upon his forehead - she'd nursed her own mother through many a migraine, and knew that silence was key. Lastly she filled a glass with water and left it on his bedside table, then retrieved a random book she'd spotted and took a seat in his armchair.

 

"You don't have to stay." His voice was hoarse from exhaustion.

 

She held a finger up to her lips, commanding him to be silent, then returned her attention to the book in her hands. It was something about the _proper calibration of siege equipment_ , so obviously she almost immediately drifted off herself.

 

When she eventually awoke, it was abruptly. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and soon realised what had disturbed her. Cullen was mumbling in his sleep, limbs lightly thrashing as he grimaced at some obviously terrible nightmare.

 

Her first thought was to sneak out, not wanting to intrude on something so personal, but as she got to her feet she instead found herself tiptoeing towards him. She stopped when he shouted something unintelligible, wondering if he'd wake himself up, but when it became clear he was still gripped by his nightmare, she continued closer and sat herself on the edge of the bed.

 

"Cullen." She softly whispered, but he didn't respond. She placed a hand on his chest and gently nudged him.

 

"Solona!" He suddenly yelled, before his eyes shot open and he sat bolt-upright.

 

She recoiled slightly, keeping herself at a safe distance. She watched in silence as he sat there, panting, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. She swallowed, nervously, then placed a hand on his cheek and turned his head to face her.

 

"Cullen?" She'd never seen him look so panicked - except perhaps at Adamant.

 

He locked eyes with her, blinking a few times in confusion, before he seemed to recognise her. "Olivia?"

 

Oh good, at least he hadn't mistaken her for this _Solona_ person. "I'm here." She whispered, gently pushing on his chest to coax him to lie back down. "It's late, go back to sleep." She faffed with the sheet, making sure he at least looked comfortable, then turned to stand.

 

"Wait." He reached out and grabbed her hand, waiting for her to look at him. "Lie with me?"

 

This was very dangerous territory: one did not do this kind of thing if they were only in it for the sex.

 

"Please?" He scooted away from her slightly and tapped the mattress a few times in encouragement.

 

She eventually submitted, placing a knee on the mattress and lifting the sheet to join him.

 

“Uh-uh." He disapproved. “Clothes."

 

She raised her eyebrow and smirked. “I thought you were sick?"

 

“I’m not going to try anything.” He assured her. “I just want to feel you."

 

“Fine," She acquiesced with a huff and a roll of her eyes. “But I can’t stay all night; I have work to do."

 

Having already shucked her boots, she untied the laces of her trousers and stepped out of them, then unhooked a few of the fastenings of her tunic and pulled it off over her head.

 

“Is this to your satisfaction, Sir?” She drawled, sarcastically, standing before him in her underwear.

 

“Meh" He shrugged. “I suppose it'll do.”

 

“You...” She smacked his chest as she knelt on the bed beside him.

 

“Come here.” He grabbed a hold of her and pulled her down beside him, locking her in a deep kiss while his free arm wrapped the covers around her.

 

“I thought you weren’t going to try anything?” She panted when he finally released her.

 

“My apologies.” He chuckled. “You’re just too irresistible, Trevelyan.”

 

With an effortless strength he rolled her on to her side and pulled her back to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her and nuzzling his face in to her hair.

 

“Well I didn’t say you had to stop.”

 

“Wasn’t planning to." He immediately retorted, running a hand down her side until he reached her smalls. “What say we take these off, hmm?”

 

She chuckled as she eagerly rid herself of the offending garment. She tried to turn in his arms, but he held her steady, running his hand down her thigh then bending her leg at the knee to open her up to his probing hands.

 

He took a very short break from kissing her neck and shoulder to loudly wet his fingers, then slid them down the cleft of her arse and straight in to her core.

 

She pushed back against him, instantly desperate for more. He began nibbling her ear as his fingers slid fluidly in and out of her tight sheath.

 

“More" She breathlessly pleaded.

 

His fingers were suddenly gone and she soon felt the press of his cock between her legs. He rubbed himself against her, teasingly, until she growled and he plunged in to her depths. She cried out in satisfaction, his own sigh ghosting over her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

 

He palmed her cloth covered breast with the arm that was supporting her neck, while his other hand swept over every inch of flesh he could reach as they slowly rutted.

 

She twisted her upper body just enough for her lips to reach his, biting down on his lip at a particularly deep thrust.

 

She straightened her body, turning back away from him, and placed a steadying hand on the mattress.

 

His hand slid over her hip and down to their joining, where he began lightly caressing her throbbing bundle of nerves.

 

Her breathing became ragged as his hand and cock both brought her such seemingly effortless pleasure, until she cried out as the spasm of her orgasm gripped him, and then he began hammering his hips against her rear until he eventually stilled at the end of a particularly deep thrust and cried out her name.

 

He tightened his hold on her, pulling her close as he caught his breath. “I did it again. I’m sorry.”

 

“We really should be more careful.” She gently chided. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn there were lots of little bastard Rutherford’s out there."

 

“Unlikely. I’ve never been so carelessly lost in the moment as I am with you.”

 

A comment like that would usually maker her nauseous, or scare the crap out of her, but instead she found herself turning to face him and engaging him in a heated kiss.

 

“I might need a minute." He chuckled, assuming the ravenous kiss was a prelude to round two.

 

She just smiled at him – well as much of a smile as her bitchy face could manage – then rolled on to her back.

 

“Whose Solona?” Where the fuck did that question come from? She hadn’t even been thinking it...had she?

 

Cullen seemed to stop breathing beside her.

 

“Sorry. Forget I asked, it’s none of my business.”

 

“How do you know that name?” He asked, gently, as his fingers began tracing patterns on her ever-so-slightly muscular stomach.

 

“You said it in your sleep.”

 

“She...was a mage under my care, back in Fereldan.”

 

“Would I be correct in assuming she was more than that?”

 

He sighed. “There may have been some infatuation on my part.”

 

"Naughty Templar." She tskd. "Did you have your way with her in dark corners of the library?"

 

"Believe it or not I was still an innocent Chantry boy back then. It wasn't until Kirkwall that I became the deity of pleasure you see before you."

 

"You should probably let other people tell you that." She smirked.

 

"Honestly though, nothing happened beyond talking and a few lingering touches."

 

"Did the Mage/Templar fantasy never tempt you? Did you never pleasure yourself to thoughts of her when you were alone at night?"

 

"I am but a man,” He comically declared. “Though my masturbatory fantasies were not limited to such things, I can assure you."

 

"Do you ever...imagine us in that scenario? Me the helpless mage and you the imposing Templar?"

 

"I'm beginning to think you might have."

 

"My _masturbatory_ _fantasies_ have gotten pretty creative on the road."

 

"Tell me more."

 

"All right." She giggled, excitedly, before continuing in a low and sultry tone. "So, I'm just quietly minding my own business, reading something incredibly complex in the library, when a group of corrupt and savagely randy Templar's try to force themselves on me. They succeed only in stripping me naked, when you suddenly appear to swoop in and save the day. Completely in awe of my handsome saviour, and with no possessions of my own to grant you a reward, I thank you the only way I can."

 

"And how is that, exactly?"

 

She bit her lip, feigning coyness. "It usually starts with me on my knees." She wrapped her fingers around his swiftly hardening cock and slowly began pumping as she continued her tale. "I take your cock all the way in to my mouth _but_ , inexperienced as I am - and with such a large appendage - I choke each time you eagerly snap your hips towards my face."

 

She noticed the clenching muscles of his jaw, and his fingers griping the sheets beneath him, delighted with his reaction.

 

"When my chest is covered in the saliva dripping from my mouth, I turn around and present you with my tight, virginal cunt."

 

He groaned at the image and her quickening strokes.

 

"Then you fall to your knees, grab a hold of my hips and ever so slowly slip inside -"

 

"Stop." He grit the word through his teeth, squeezing her hand around his cock to avoid an untimely end. "Show me."

 

She nipped his bottom lip, before flipping herself over and assuming the position from her fantasies; arms outstretched with her chest and cheek pressed to the mattress and her arse in the air. He moved to his knees behind her, gripped her hips as instructed, then slowly filled her until his balls pressed against her aching nerves.

 

"Then what?" His voice was pained, as though the restraint was torture.

 

Rather than continuing to describe her sordid fantasy, she decided to immerse herself in the roll completely. "Ser Templar,” She cried out in a voice much younger than her own. “It hurts: you're too big. Please, stop."

 

She almost climaxes herself when he immediately assumes his own character. "There's a good little mage, you're doing so well, just a little longer and I promise it won't hurt so much."

 

"Please, Ser Templar." She moaned in such a way that it could be either pain or pleasure, and he worried if he shouldn't be more concerned by how much this arouses him.

 

He squeezed her clit between his index and ring fingers, then repeatedly slid them up and down until her orgasm had her clenching around him.

 

"Please don't finish inside me, Ser Templar." She managed to beg, masterfully dedicated to her roll, despite the earth-shattering climax.

 

As if compelled, he did exactly that; slamming in to her one final time to seat himself so deep she could feel him hit the mouth of her womb.

 

When his vision eventually returned, he loosened his grip on her hips, noticing little crescent shapes where his fingers had dug in a little too roughly - though she had shown no signs of discomfort beyond the act. He watched her petite ribcage expand with each deep breath, before reluctantly pulling out and falling down beside her.

 

"Mind if I borrow that fantasy?"

 

"I'd be happy to trade." She opened her eyes to wink at him, then promptly closed them again to drift in to state of semi-conscious contentedness.

 

She woke a little under an hour later to the feel of his fingertips ghosting up and down her arm. “I didn't want to wake you - but you said you had work to do?”

 

She took a deep breath and stretched her entire body, before kissing him on the cheek then slipped out of bed.

 

“There is something else I should probably tell you...about Solona.”

 

She cast him a glance over her shoulder as she stepped back in to her trousers.

 

“Most people know her as...The Hero of Ferelden.”

 

Her eyes widened for just a second. “Would that be the same Hero who's due to arrive here within the month?” Leliana had managed to make contact with her old companion and persuade her to consult with the Inquisition in person.

 

“Is that a problem?” He nervously questioned.

 

She finished dressing then turned to face him. “Should it be?”

 

“No - uh - of course not.” He stuttered. “I just don't want you worrying that I might still have feelings for her.”

 

She voiced the question in her head at least twelve times before deciding to say it out loud “Do you?”

 

“Of course not.” He stepped out of bed and waltzed towards her - distractingly naked. “I once believed my feelings for her where...unique.” He locked eyes with her and cupped her face with both hands. “But she is nothing compared to you.”

 

“Such a sap.” She rolled her eyes in amusement, before giving him a quick kiss and heading towards the ladder. “Just so you know,” She turned her head just enough to see him in her peripherals. “If you see her and you do... _feel_ something - please don't let _us_ hold you back.”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“It means - as you well know - that you and I will end with the Inquisition. If you two still care for each other, and have a chance at something more long term, you should take it.”

 

“I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that, okay?” Anger radiated from him as he paced back towards his bed.

 

“Okay, drama queen.” She retorted. “See you in a few weeks.”

 

* * *

 

She'd been distracted the entire time they were travelling. She wasn't jealous about the imminent arrival of his first infatuation, she just couldn't understand his anger at her suggestion - and she detested not being able to understand things.

 

It was poor form to sneak into Skyhold to avoid her advisor's, and she knew the Hero would be there by now and was likely waiting for an introduction, but she just had to get Cullen alone first to make sure everything was okay between them.

 

She kept her hood up as she made her way along the battlements and avoided eye contact with everyone she passed until she eventually arrived at one of his three-too-many doors.

 

Just in case he was still mad at her, she decided to announce herself with humour. "Honey, I'm ho -" but she was immediately shocked in to silence by the gut wrenching sight that greeted her.

 

"Fuck - Olivia, this is NOT what it looks like."

 

"Well that's good, 'cause it looks like you're about to fuck another women."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut here (sorry).

**Cullen**

 

The Heralds Rest was oddly quiet. He took a vacant seat at the bar and conversed politely with Cabot while he filled and handed him a tankard of what he called _the good stuff_. It tasted much like the not so good stuff, but he'd accept anything that might help him to sleep. The Inquisitor had sent word ahead that she'd be arriving back within a day or two, and he was just far too eager to see her to be able to switch his brain off and sleep. He felt like a little boy waiting for Satinalia.

 

The blissful quiet didn't last long; Bull's chargers and a rowdy contingent of soldiers soon filled the place with raucous laughter and drunken merriment. He told himself _one more_ and then he'd retire. As he signalled for a refill, a soft pair of feminine hands slid around his face to cover his eyes as the words _guess who_ where whispered in his ear. He smiled as he lifted his own hands to lightly grip her wrists. It was admittedly odd for her to be so hands on in public, but he didn't think much of it; he just really wanted to see her.

 

He gently tugged her hands away from his face as he turned on his stool to face her, and shock immediately replaced his eager smile. “Solona?”

 

She was nothing like he remembered; apparently gone were the days when she could barely look him in the eye without blushing.

 

“Hello stranger.” She purred, her eyes intent on studying his face in a way that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

 

He didn't know what to say. He knew she would be arriving any day now, but he just assumed their first re-introduction would be in the war room with the Inquisitor by his side.

 

“Mind if I join you?” She asked, when the silence had stretched on for too long.

 

“Uh - please.” He gestured to the stool beside him then waved Cabot over to take her order.

 

“Anything red, please.” She politely asked the barkeep with a gracious smile.

 

He nervously tapped his fingers on his knee as she quietly sipped her wine, desperate to think of something to say.

 

“So, this is a little more awkward than I'd anticipated.” She chuckled, nervously biting her lip.

 

And there was the blushing girl he remembered. “Sorry.” He laughed, shaking his head at himself. “I knew you'd be arriving soon, I just...guess I hadn't really prepared myself.”

 

“Is my presence so intimidating?”

 

“No, its not that.” He shook his head. “I just - well, I told myself if I ever saw you again I'd apologise for our last encounter.”

 

“Apologise?” She furrowed her brow in confusion.

 

“I demanded you kill everyone - people you'd known almost your entire life - I said unforgivable things about your kind, and I -”

 

“Cullen.” She gently interrupted, placing a sympathetic hand on his thigh. “I never thought bad of you for that - you'd been tortured for Maker knows how long, watched your friends succumb and die - if anything I was impressed by your resilience. You have nothing to apologise for.” She squeezed his leg for a moment before returning her hand to her drink.

 

He let out a breath of air he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

 

“You've really been carrying that around with you - all this time?”

 

“Apparently.” He huffed in amusement before downing the rest of his drink.

 

He raised an eyebrow when she copied him, downing her own drink then signalling for another round. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Warden?”

 

She snorted in that cute way he'd forgotten about. “I wouldn't dream of it - and it's Warden _Commander_.”

 

“Is that so?” He chuckled. “You know, you are nothing like I remember.”

 

“What a difference a blight makes.” She winked as she clinked his drink with her own.

 

He'd half expected her to be the same shy, nervous mage who avoided eye contact like the plague. Technically she still _looked_ the same: tall and slender with her long dark hair pulled up in to a loose bun; but what he once thought were mesmerising chocolate-brown eyes, now seemed rather ordinary. If he was being completely honest with himself, he had worried he might still have feelings for her; but looking at her right now, he felt absolutely nothing.

 

They had a good catch up after that, swapping stories about Kirkwall and Amaranthine. He was surprised to discover that Solona and Hawke were actually cousins, though had never actually met.

 

He ran a hand over his stubble as he decided he'd drank more than enough to finally get a good nights sleep, and bring him one day closer to Olivia, and was not prepared for the abrupt change in conversation.

 

“So, are you seeing anyone?”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, almost ready to launch in to an in depth discussion about his whirlwind romance with the Inquisitor, but then he remembered the promise he'd made: that he had to keep it a secret. “It's complicated.” Was all he said instead.

 

"Do you ever think about me?" She bit her lip and looked intently at the drink in front of her.

 

"I -"

 

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately," She turned back to face him with a determined look in her eyes. "About how easy it would be for us to be together now."

 

"Solona, you need to know -"

 

"You look good, Cullen - even better than I remember."

 

She'd leaned in closer with each passing minute, and when he saw her eyes on his lips he knew what she was about to do. His eyes widened in realisation and just as he took a breath and moved discreetly out of reach, her wine somehow ended up being spilled all over him.

 

“I'm so sorry -”

 

“It's fine.” He tried to placate her, not entirely sure how it had even happened.

 

“No it's not, it'll stain - though I do have a trick that might work.” She raised an eyebrow in offering.

 

“A trick?”

 

“When you spend the majority of you're time covered in darkspawn blood, you learn to get creative.”

 

“Honestly, its fine.” He tried to protest.

 

“I wont take no for an answer.” She hoped off her seat and pushed him towards the door. “We're going to need some privacy - your office is nearby, right?”

 

“Why privacy?”

 

She laughed as though he were simple. “Well I cant get the stain out while you're still wearing it now can I?”

 

“I'm not sure -” He tried to protest again, but she was having none of it.

 

“I promise not to look, if that's what your worried about?”

 

He sighed in defeat. “All right, it's just up this way.”

 

They walked in silence up the steps and along the battlements. He swayed a little off centre with the copious amount of alcohol in his system, though she seemed no worse for wear.

 

“All right, off with it.” She demanded as soon as she entered, shutting the door behind her.

 

“Let me just go grab something clean to wear.”

 

“Cullen, every second this is left to sit makes it more difficult to remove. We're both adults, just take it off already.”

 

He felt very uncomfortable, but ultimately did as instructed. Facing his desk he pulled his shirt off over his head, then turned around to hand it to her, only to find her standing not two feet away.

 

“Thanks.” She accepted his shirt, then immediately discarded it over her shoulder.

 

“Solona -”

 

“How did you get this?” She traced the scar on his lip with her finger.

 

He turned his head away from her, trying to think of some way to get her out of there without ruining this alliance.

 

She placed both hands on his chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You smell exactly as I remember.”

 

 _Wrong_. He thought to himself. He hadn't been using that particular scent since Kinloch.

 

“I remember the first time you touched me like it was yesterday.” She was looking at him in a way that made him wish red Templar's would storm the keep just to put an end to this. “You saw me struggling to reach a book and chivalrously stepped in to help.” She pressed her whole body against him, completely distracting him from her nimble fingers unlacing his trousers. “And when you handed me the book our fingers touched, and you just stood there staring at me.”

 

 _Also wrong._ The first time he touched her was in the Chantry. He remembered thinking the statue of Andraste was frowning at him. Her story was either imagined...or involved a different Templar altogether. But just as he was about to voice his suspicion, her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers and her fingers wrapped around his flaccid cock.

 

She frowned at him as she realised he wasn't nearly as aroused as she'd expected, though instead of giving up she gave him a rather scary smirk then fell to her knees and dragged his pants down with her.

 

“Solona, no.” He gripped her by the shoulders, but before he could pull her up the door swung open and the person he wanted to see both the most and the least at that particular moment began to obliviously speak.

 

“Honey, I'm ho -” He would have loved to hear her finish that sentence, joke or no.

 

"Fuck," He panicked. "Olivia, this is NOT what it looks like."

 

She reigned in her shock at an impressive speed, her resting bitch face sliding effortlessly back in to place. "Well that's good, 'cause it looks like you're about to fuck another woman." She didn't sound mad, but completely devoid of emotion; and he knew that was far worse.

 

Solona was still on her knees and still, infuriatingly, had a handful of him. "Solona, stop." He swatted her away.

 

"Solona?" She almost choked on the word.

 

The Warden Commander stood from her crouched position on the floor, then whispered to him in a voice that the Inquisitor was clearly meant to hear. “Darling, you might have told me that the Inquisitor was the complication you mentioned.”

 

He opened his mouth in shock. “I didn't say she was...” He turned to face Olivia, completely mortified. “I never called you that!” He turned his ire on the devil woman. "What is wrong with you!?" He roughly pushed her away before turning to speak to Olivia, only to see the back of her retreating in to the distance.

 

He dressed in a blind panic, repeatedly swatting away the advances of a woman he was quickly realising he never truly knew, then fled his office to try and salvage the best thing to ever happen to him.

 

* * *

 

**Olivia**

 

Her legs were a little shaky as she made her way down toward the training grounds, her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty and she had no idea what this odd feeling was. She'd encouraged him to do whatever he wanted...did a part of her actually think he wouldn't? Just because he wanted her to himself, it didn't mean he didn't want anyone else.

 

She had intended to get a drink at the tavern, but her legs carried her right on by and up to her quarters. She was standing on her balcony, forearms resting on the railing as she stared in to space, before she became fully conscious again. It was his hand on her shoulder that snapped her out of her daze.

 

"What are you doing here?" She tried for light and breezy but her smile came out a little tight lipped.

 

"I swear, that wasn't what it looked like."

 

"You don't need to explain." She quickly interrupted. “You did exactly what I told you to.”

 

His brow furrowed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you honestly think I would do anything to jeopardise what we have, after all the effort I've gone to? I promise you it wasn't as bad at it looked - she just...caught me by surprise."

 

"Oh, that old chestnut."

 

"I'm serious, Olivia. Even if you hadn't arrived when you did, it would not have gone any further - It wouldn't have even gone that far if I was allowed to tell people about us."

 

"Oh, so it's my fault you stuck your cock in another woman's mouth?"

 

"I didn't..." He growled in frustration.

 

"I honestly don't care." She shrugged. "You are a free man and can do whatever - or whomever - you like."

 

He practically oozed irritability, face twitching as he carefully considered his next words. "So if I went and tracked her down and fucked her senseless, you wouldn't care?"

 

She lifted her chin up high before locking eyes with him. "No."

 

"Nugshit!" He immediately retorted. "I saw the look on your face, you were jealous."

 

"I do not get jealous." She protested. “And you're missing the point: I'm trying to tell you that I'm not angry -"

 

"Well I think I'd prefer it if you were. At least that would be an honest reaction."

 

 _Too far, Rutherford._ "You want to talk about honesty? Is it honest to work relentlessly to convince a person that you care about them, only to fuck someone else at the precise moment when they actually start to believe it?"

 

"So you do care." He wore one of those smug fucking grins she could never decide if she wanted to slap or kiss.

 

"Fuck off, Cullen." She turned away from him and disappeared back in to her room to help herself to a generous measure of her top-shelf rum.

 

"Olivia, please believe me when I say that _nothing would have happened_. She is not the woman I remember -"

 

"And if she had been?" She kept her back to him.

 

"Even if she was - I am not the same man." She could feel the warmth of him as he stepped up behind her. "You are the only woman I want - don't you think I'd be with her right now if that wasn't true?"

 

She stared blankly at the empty glass in her hand.

 

"Olivia." He slowly turned her to face him. "You have to believe me - I wasn't even hard for Andraste's sake, surely you noticed that?"

 

He took her slight smile as a sign that it was safe to touch her. He took the glass from her hand and set it down behind her, before pulling her now empty hand to his lips. "I know I'm not worthy: my name means nothing, I have no lands, no coin - but I care about you. Could you honestly just walk away from this so easily?"

 

He looked at her with such hope in his eyes.

 

“...or, perhaps I was never more than an easy shag to you?”

 

She rolled her eyes. "All right, I admit it: you are more than just an easy shag - you're a phenomenal shag." She winked. "But seriously, I genuinely think this is a good stopping point for us. I told myself _only for as long as it makes sense,_ and it doesn't any more. You and I were never going to continue beyond the Inquisition, and now you have a chance to be happy with someone else; someone you once loved - perhaps still do. Don't let whatever this is get in the way of that."

 

"I don't love her." He was quick to correct. "Perhaps I thought I did once, but with hindsight I can see it was just a juvenile infatuation.” He lifted a hand to her face, reverently stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Truthfully...it's more than just hindsight - I mean the way I feel about yo -"

 

" _Whoa_ , stop right there!" She interrupted in a blind panic. "If you're about to confess your _feelings_ for me, Rutherford...just don't."

 

His face was expressionless as he silently stared at her, until the tension forced her to speak.

 

"How in the void did we get here?" She sighed. "I thought we were of the same mind? You know, Dorian once said that he thought you were me with a penis."

 

That pulled a chuckle out of him. "He wasn't wrong."

 

"So, what happened? When did things change?"

 

"Adamant." He simply stated. "I mean I always knew there was something special about you - I suspect that's why I was so hard on you in the beginning: a misguided attempt to hide my attraction to you."

 

He walked over to the couch and slowly made himself comfortable.

 

"But it was Adamant that changed everything. When you disappeared...I thought you were dead - and Thedas just seemed so much duller."

 

He didn't speak for a while after, perhaps he was hoping for her to confess her own feelings, but he soon realised he'd be waiting forever.

 

"Did you not think of me at all when you were trapped in the fade?"

 

"I - this conversation is making me uncomfortable."

 

"Are you so incapable of having a meaningful conversation?"

 

She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, before joining him on the couch. She tucked one leg underneath her and sat facing him. "Cullen, I like what we're doing...but it can never be more."

 

"I don't understand why."

 

"Because I would never subject you to such a thing."

 

"Subject?"

 

She sat back with a heavy sigh, closing her eyes as she tilted her head to the sky. “I think it's time I told you the truth...about my mother.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if I'd allow Cullen to cheat on her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen begins to understand why Olivia is the way she is.
> 
> Also a slight mishap in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, but I really wanted to do this reveal justice. I hope I did.
> 
> If not, please enjoy the artwork by the fabulous @samusisagirl. She seriously draws the dreamiest Cullen.
> 
> This chapter is a little longer than usual. If that's not your thing, let me know and I'll try to keep them a little shorter in future.

As she stared up at the ceiling, she knew there was only one more thing she could do to make him understand that she wasn't the one for him. “I think it's time I told you the truth...about my mother.”

 

“What about your mother?” He spoke softly, knowing that a candid Olivia was likely to be a flighty one.

 

“Everything.” She vaguely elaborated, a nervously fearful look on her face.

 

Cullen sat more comfortably on the couch, gently encouraging her to continue.

 

“Maker, where do I even begin?” She asked herself, which he answered with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

 

“The night she died, she -”

 

“Liv?” She closed her eyes and sighed at the sound of her brothers voice. “Liv, you up there?”

 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered to Cullen before turning to stand.

 

He grabbed her wrist and lightly yanked, demanding her attention. “We're not done here.”

 

“I know.” She placed the flat of her palm on his chest. “I promise we'll talk about this another time.”

 

Her brother appeared then, a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Oh...I'm not interrupting, am I?” His shit eating grin having quite the opposite effect of an apology.

 

“Cullen was just leaving.” It was a response for the intruder but she never took her eyes off Cullen, pleading for him not to make a scene.

 

He stood without a word and made his way towards the stairs, hesitating when he reached the top. “It's good to see you again Theodore. Inquisitor...until tomorrow.”

 

“What's happening tomorrow?” Theo nosily enquired as soon as Cullen was out of earshot, claiming the basket of fruit from her desk then reclining on her bed like he owned the place; popping grapes in to his pampered mouth.

 

She forced herself to take a deep calming breath, so as not to punch him in the face.

 

“Oh, I know that look.” He humorously observed. “You want to punch me right now. Just what did I interrupt, exactly?”

 

She exhaled until she visibly deflated, then took a seat on the bed beside him. “I was about to tell Cullen about our dear mother, and what _actually_ happened the night she died.”

 

“Do you want him to think you're mad?” His tone was teasing but his face wore a look of concern.

 

“I want him to understand me.” 

 

“You mean you want to scare him off, once and for all.”

 

“You say pot-A-to, I say pot-ah-to.”

 

“You know, there are other ways to end a relationship. You don't have to go spilling our families deepest, darkest secrets.”

 

“I've tried, believe me. He's relentless and I...well I clearly can't be trusted to stay away from him.”

 

“So you need him to want to end it.” Theo accurately surmised. “And if your plan fails? What then?”

 

“Then...I kill the darkspawn magister from hell and disappear. I'm good at hiding.”

 

“I'm not sure it will be so easy now that everyone knows your name.”

 

“Trust me.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in to a brotherly embrace. “There is no one in Thedas I trust more, little sister.”

 

“Anyway,” She almost immediately shrugged him off. “What are you doing back here?”

 

“Would you believe me if I said I was trying to woo that gorgeous Tevinter necromancer of yours?”

 

“Dorian? You know he isn't available, right?”

 

“Dear sweet sister. Everyone is available if you're charming enough.”

 

“You are terrible.”

 

“You love it.” He laughed. “And don't even try to tell me you've never come between two people.”

 

She laughed then. “Ah, the good old days.”

 

“See, you're just as terrible as I am.”

 

“So how exactly are you trying to _woo_ Dorian?” She swiftly switched the focus back to him.

 

“The last time I was here we got to talking - mostly about our fathers expectations - and he mentioned a family amulet that he sold to fund his trip here. He's since tried to get it back but hasn't had much luck.”

 

“Yeah, he told me about that - wait, don't tell me you actually found it?”

 

“I did - at no small cost, might I add - so hopefully now he'll show me that _Tevinter hospitality_ I've heard so much about.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

“You want me to believe you did this all for sex?”

 

“Why else would I have done it?” He deadpanned.

 

“Because you _liiike_ him.” She took on a childish tone which was reserved only for banter with her brother.

 

“Have you seen the man? He's a caramel skinned god, of course I like him.”

 

“No, you _like him_ like him. Like you want him to be your _boooyfriend_ like him.”

 

“Oh, do shut up.”

 

“It pains me to say it brother, but I don't think finding that amulet is going to have quite the effect you're expecting.”

 

“And why not?”

 

“You don't think I offered to track it down for him? Dorian _loathes_ being indebted to anyone. He's more likely to scowl than thank you.”

 

“Lucky for me I find that scowl of his rather fetching.”

 

“You are impossible. Well, best of luck brother, but would you mind fucking off now while I get some sleep?”

 

“Yes, about that. Josephine says there are no rooms available, so...I was hoping I could stay here tonight?”

 

“Fine. But no nosing around while I'm trying to sleep!”

 

“Wouldn't dream of it. Goodnight sister.”

 

* * *

 

The events of the following day kept her pretty busy, in-fact aside from the war council meeting she didn't see Cullen at all. She stopped by his office later on in the evening, but he was still working and surrounded by scouts. He glanced apologetically at her before she gave up and slipped away.

 

The day after that she arrived at the usual early morning war council meeting, only to find the room empty and a note pinned to the door.

 

_Meet me at the stables_

 

_Cullen_

 

She anxiously did as the note instructed, an odd mixture of dread and excitement fluttering around in her belly. She spotted him talking to Dennet before he noticed her approaching. He had two horses saddled, with travel bags big enough to indicate at least a night away from Skyhold.

 

As they both spotted her, Dennet gave her a polite nod then retreated away to tend to the mounts.

 

“I got your note.” Her tone was exaggeratedly shy, playing the part of a young girl consumed by her infatuation.

 

“Get on.” Cullen instructed with a grin.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Just get on.” He insisted. “Don't worry, I've cleared your schedule with Josephine.”

 

“For how long, exactly?”

 

“We'll be back by tomorrow evening, now _get on_.”

 

“So bossy.” She put her foot in the stirrup, then flashed him a suggestive grin over her shoulder. “I hope there's more of that to come, _Commander_.”

 

“Get. On.”

 

She did so enjoy pushing his buttons. She pulled herself up and mounted her usual Amaranthine Charger as Cullen did the same with his favoured Fereldan Forder.

 

They made idle chit-chat as they traversed the mountainside, the snow gradually thinning until it was gone completely. She was surprised when he brought them to a stop near a lake, assuming they'd be travelling for much longer than they had.

 

He helped her to dismount then took her hand and walked her to the end of a nearby pier; where they stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand, looking out over the water.

 

“Where are we?” She turned her head to look up at him, but he kept his gaze on the water.

 

“I used to come here when I was younger to escape my siblings.”

 

“You grew up near here?” She smiled fondly at the thought of a young Cullen.

 

“Not too far.” He turned to face her, taking hold of her other hand so that he held them both. “I thought we could use the privacy - if only for a day.”

 

She looked down at their interlocked hands, swallowing nervously. “Okay.” She nodded, knowing he meant for their last conversation to pick up where it left off.

 

He raised her hands to his lips and bestowed each with a kiss. “Shall we sit?”

 

She laughed when he took off his boots and rolled up his trousers so he could dangle his feet in to the water, but copied him anyway.

 

She smiled as she watched both of their feet swirling around in the crystal clear water, until he gently bumped her with his shoulder and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

 

“Right. The ugly truth.” She stared off in to the distance, focusing on an old decrepit cottage on the other side of the lake. “Long story short: My mothers suicide was meant to be a murder-suicide.” She spoke quickly so as not to chicken out. “But...I survived.”

 

Cullen's feet abruptly stopped moving in the water. “Your mother tried to kill you?”

 

“Would have been successful too if not for the miracle of magic.”

 

“Why - how - what?” Cullen was horrified to the point of not being able to form a complete sentence.

 

“She had her reasons - reasons that are going to sound a little insane.”

 

“What reasons could a mother possibly have for trying to kill her own child!?”

 

“Cullen, please: I need you to understand that my mother was not evil. She loved me very much - more than anything - it was clear to anyone.”

 

“Then why -”

 

“Because she saw something so traumatic in my future that it drove her mad.”

 

He stared blankly at her. “I'm sorry, but none of what you just said makes any sense.”

 

“My mother was a seer, Cullen - though I'm the only one who ever truly believed her.”

 

“A seer? You're serious?”

 

“I am. I was just a child but she proved herself to me time and time again. After she died my father brainwashed me in to believing it was all just a mothers intuition, and after a time I actually started to believe him. And then I stumbled in to the fade at Adamant and so many old, corrupted memories suddenly became perfectly clear.”

 

“What...kind of things did she see?”

 

“The kind of things that eventually traumatise a person: disease, disaster, betrayal...death. She once told me about a fox who'd met an untimely end, leaving five defenceless cubs behind. She helped me find them and encouraged me to care for them until they were strong enough to fend for themselves. She said they would repay me someday.”

 

“And...did they?”

 

She snorted. “They did actually: chased away the lecherous son of a visiting lord who mistook me for easy pray. I was fifteen.”

 

“What!?”

 

“Oh, don't get the wrong impression: I was about to slit his throat when they arrived, they saved me from a world of trouble.”

 

“You know, that doesn't surprise me in the least.” They smiled fondly at each other, for just a moment.

 

“I'd often wondered why my mother insisted I learn how to defend myself from such a young age, in spite of my fathers relentless protestations. I think I got my answer that day.”

 

She was quiet for a moment as she collected her thoughts.

 

“She once asked my father not to go on a hunt he'd planned. She said there would be an accident; that someone would get seriously hurt or worse. She was usually more discreet with my father than that, manipulating him in such a subtle way that he was never even aware of it. He didn't listen to her, of course, and someone was thrown from their horse and died. Father blamed my mother for it; said she spooked him with her nonsense and the horses could sense it, made them nervous and in so doing actually caused the accident.”

 

“Charming man.”

 

“Their relationship had always been a little strained, but after that is when it truly began to deteriorate. He insisted she stop talking about her _so-called dreams_ and threatened to send me away to boarding school if she didn't stop filling my head with such nonsense.”

 

She took a deep steadying breath.

 

“She tried, she really did, but it seemed like the more she attempted to ignore her dreams the worse they became. She eventually had a nervous breakdown. She begged my father to believe in her, but he just wouldn't. He forced her to see specialist after specialist after specialist, until _he_ was finally satisfied with the diagnosis. _Paranoid delusions_ , they called them.”

 

Her consciousness drifted off for a bit as she thought back, but when she felt Cullen's comforting hand on her back she soldiered on.

 

“Her last couple of months with us were...difficult. She slept most of the time, always plagued by terrible nightmares, and when she wasn't sleeping she was crippled by chronic migraines. She spoke as though she were somewhere else, like she couldn't see what was right in front of her. On her better days I'd read to her, but she'd interrupt me every time I tried to turn the page. She'd take my hand in hers and ask me _does it hurt_. I wonder now if she was talking about this.”

 

She held her hand out in front of her face, studying the green light radiating from her palm.

 

“The night she killed herself, she came to my room when I was sleeping. She woke me with a lullaby - the same one she sang to us as infants. She seemed completely lucid and I was _so_ happy - but then she started to cry; so I sat up straight and tried to console her. She eventually calmed, but then she got this really serious look on her face - like she wasn't really her anymore.”

 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to allow her emotions to surface.

 

“She told me that I was on a path she couldn't watch me walk, nor could she let me walk it alone. She said that I was too good for this world, and she wouldn't allow it to ruin me. Then she hugged me...and kissed my cheek...and sank a dagger in to my back.”

 

Her vision blurred as her tears would no longer be denied.

 

“Then she pulled it out and stabbed me again...and again...and again.”

 

Cullen squeezed her hip, almost to the point of pain, as tears began cascading effortlessly down her cheeks. Memories of that night flashed rapidly through her mind: the excruciating pain, the blood filling her lungs, the absolute betrayal she felt at the hands of the woman she'd trusted most in this world.

 

“Right before I passed out, she apologised - _actually fucking apologised_ \- she told me she'd meet me in the golden city, and then she sliced open her wrists. And she did it all with a smile on her face, as though she truly believed she was doing me a kindness.”

 

She shivered as she remembered just how cold she'd felt, lying in a pool of blood on the brink of death.

 

“Lucky for me, my deviant brother had an apostate in his bed: I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. Instead I woke up without so much as a scar to prove I hadn't imagined the entire thing. They say it was a miracle I survived, even with the aid of magic. My father covered it up, of course - told everyone she was depressed and ended her own life - I was never part of the story."

 

“Olivia, I am so sorry that happened to you, truly I am.” He pulled her close and buried a kiss in her hair. “But...what does this have to do with us?”

 

She wiped the tears from her face and turned to look him in the eye.

 

“I've always been afraid of the future, even when I didn't understand why. I have lived a solitary life; never staying in one place for too long or letting anyone get too close. I don't know if my future was so horrifying that it drove my mother mad, or it was just the final straw, but I refuse to risk dragging anyone else down with me - least of all you.”

 

He took her face in his hands, and then smiled. He should be fleeing for his life but instead he was smiling like a goon.

 

"Do you really think I don't understand what its like to fear your own future? Olivia, I'm a recovering lyrium addict. Templar's don't die happy old men, most go mad. And what I've done, weaning myself off it completely, its unprecedented - I have no idea how this might affect me in the long run. Believe me, I understand perfectly well how you feel."

 

She tilted her head and looked at him in a way that said _how can such a perfect man possibly exist._ "I...hadn't considered that."

 

"Does it make me less appealing?"

 

She looked him straight in the eye. "Of course not, but -"

 

"But nothing. You cannot allow _what-ifs_ to dictate your life.”

 

“Cullen -”

 

“No.” He sternly interrupted. “My eyes are wide open to the things you say make it impossible for us to be together - and I disagree.”

 

Though her sigh was hopeless, she couldn't help smiling at him. “You're a fool, Cullen Rutherford.”

 

“For you, perhaps.” He cupped her cheek, then kissed her slowly before pressing their foreheads together. "Just know this: I am not afraid of what may come. The only thing that scares me - terrifies me, actually - is the thought of losing you.”

 

She smiled, sweetly. “Have I ever told you how much of a girl you are?”

 

“Yes, actually, I believe you have.” He laughed.

 

“And yet you still insist on acting like one.”

 

Completely and infuriatingly incapable of matching his sentiment with any means of verbal communication, she wound her arms around his neck and held him tightly to her. He gently rubbed her back as she nuzzled in to the crook of his neck, inhaling his signature scent of leather and oakmoss, with just a hint of orange blossom.

 

As she eyed the water, a mischievous grin appeared on her face. “Have you ever been skinny dipping here?”

 

“Of course not, I was still a child the last time I was -” He abruptly lost his train of thought when she pulled away from him and began unbuttoning her shirt.

 

“First time for everything, right?”

 

He watched her stand and shimmy out of her leggings before his brain eventually caught up and he began frantically removing his own clothes.

 

“Err, what do you think you're doing?” He disapproved just as she was about to jump in.

 

“What?”

 

“Skinny dipping implies naked. You're not naked.”

 

She grinned at him, intentionally still wearing her smalls. “You'll have to catch me first.” And then she dove gracefully in to the lake.

 

She heard him jump in not long after as she swam towards the middle, but he soon caught up; grabbing her waist and pulling her back against him.

 

She turned in his arms to face him and literally swooned at the sight of his wet curls. There was something about seeing a part of him that other people rarely got to see that made her feel special.

 

“Caught you.”

 

She reached behind herself to unclasp her breast band, then flung it back on to the pier.

 

He raised one eyebrow, silently reminding her of the rest.

 

She rolled her eyes then slid them down her legs and they soon joined her breast band. “Happy?”

 

He ran his hands down her back to her bottom, grabbing a handful and roughly pulling her towards him to rub himself against her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Very.”

 

They soon found that it was quite impossible to have satisfactory sex in deep waters, so she lead him back towards the pier where the water was just shallow enough for his feet to touch the ground. She pinned her back against a wooden beam and reached her arms up high to hold on to it. “Come on big boy, why don't we see how sturdy this pier is?”

 

He didn't need asking twice. He was in the heavenly embrace of her thighs within seconds, teasing her to wetness with his fingers - water alone, it seemed, was not the best lubricant.

 

As soon as he was able to slide two fingers in without resistance, he swiftly replaced them with his cock, slamming in to her with so much force that the pier actually creaked.

 

He took her exquisitely roughly and it was exactly what she needed. After she climaxed she released her hold on the wooden beam and would have melted in to the water had he not still had her pinned.

 

They lazily kissed as the sky began to darken above them, momentarily losing touch with everything around them.

 

“Fuck it's cold.” She suddenly realised, the temperature having dropped some as the sun had gradually disappeared without notice. “Where are we even staying tonight?”

 

He pulled himself out of the water and on to the pier then held out his hand to help her up.

 

“Right over there.” He pointed to the decrepit cottage across the lake, which she had thought to be abandoned from the battered look of it.

 

“In that shit-heap? You're serious?”

 

“Just give it a chance. It's much cosier inside, I promise.”

 

They dressed as well as they could considering their dampened skin, then lead the horses around the lake towards the cottage. They tied the horses up in the stable, which looked as though it had been recently stocked in anticipation of their arrival.

 

“If there are spiders in here I'm pitching my tent and sleeping outside.” She half joked as he unlocked the front door.

 

He kissed her hand then lead her inside, and to her surprise it was nothing as she'd expected. It looked as though it had recently had work done, and a lot of it. Holes in the roof had been patched, dents in the walls filled and the smell of recently carved wood lingered in the air. Aside from that it was impressively clean and almost fully furnished.

 

“Wow. This is actually nice.” She admitted. “Who does it even belong to?”

 

“Me.” He smiled. “Or rather...us.”

 

“Pardon?” Her face dropped, as did her pulse.

 

“I bought it for us, for after were done with the Inquisition.”

 

“You want us to live together?” She couldn't help the feeling of panic that was slowly consuming her.

 

“We as good as live together now, don't we?”

 

“Skyhold is a big place.” She felt like she was suffocating, taking several steps backwards to put some much needed distance between them.

 

“Is this not big enough for you?” He innocently asked. ”I can extend if -”

 

“No, that's not what I meant.” She snapped, regretting her tone almost immediately when she saw the look of hurt on his face. “I'm sorry.”

 

“No, I'm sorry: I'm moving to fast, clearly. Just...forget I mentioned it.”

 

“Cullen...”

 

“We need firewood. I'll be back soon.”

 

_Shit._

 

She watched discreetly from the kitchen window as Cullen brought his axe down on far more logs than they would be able to get through in one night. Was she overreacting? Or was this huge gesture, as she suspected, wildly premature? She decided to leave him to it and idly explored the rest of the place.

 

It really was very cosy, as well as being perfectly adequate in the size department. There was a large open plan kitchen with a long dining table and benches, a sitting room with an open fire, a study, a large master bedroom, two empty rooms which were probably guest bedrooms and even a room just for the bathtub. What she also noticed was that every room had a touch of green. Did he know that was her favourite colour, or was it pure coincidence?

 

She should try to apologise. How often did she get a night alone with a sex-god; she wasn't about to let a silly disagreement ruin it.

 

“Cullen.” She interrupted his next swing as she slowly approached.

 

He turned to look at her but neither of them spoke. She held out her hand and gave him a cautious smile. He dropped the axe, accepted her proffered hand and allowed her to lead him inside. She took him in to the kitchen and sat him on the bench, then straddled his lap. “Please forgive me for being so ungrateful.”

 

He curiously lifted his gaze to her face.

 

“I explained to you why I am the way I am, but admitting that doesn't mean I can magically alter my behaviour. It's going to take some time: Will you help me?”

 

His solemn expression slowly melted away and was replaced by that half-smirk of his she had grown to adore. “Trevelyan, I will carry you here kicking and screaming like some Avvar barbarian if I must.”

 

She bit her lip and pressed herself more firmly in to his groin. “Now _that_ is a fantasy I can get behind.”

 

“Oh, I think I'd rather you were in front.”

 

She squealed in shock when he abruptly stood, then span her around and bent her over the kitchen table. She bit her lip, already panting with anticipating as she listened to him unfasten and step out of his trousers.

 

She was about to turn and reach for him, but then his fingers were sliding beneath the waist band of her leggings before he swiftly dragged them down and off.

 

She felt his tongue first, laving from clit to arsehole, slowly, repetitively, until she was squirming. When she moaned he reduced the sweep of his tongue to just her clit, and then she was moaning a whole lot more.

 

She bit her lip to stifle her orgasm, not wanting him to ever stop, but he knew exactly what he'd done to her. He suckled her lips as she dripped on to his tongue before pulling away and rubbing the head of his cock along the same path his tongue had taken.

 

She whimpered each time he passed over her tender clit, pushing back towards him, begging him to take her. They both moaned, loudly, when he finally entered her. He slid slowly inside, fighting against the resistance of the exquisitely snug fit this position created.

 

He stopped still when she began to move, entranced by the sight of her swallowing him whole then sliding off until only his head remained unseen. He watched for as long as he could stand it, before grasping her hips and slamming roughly back in to her. She screamed when he did, followed by a long, low moan as he slowly slid out then back in again.

 

He stared at her arsehole as he thrust in and out at a strong but not-too-fast pace, until curiosity got the better of him. He sucked one finger in to his mouth, coating it with saliva, then pressed it up against her tight ring.

 

“What the fuck?” She instantly pulled away from him, his cock slipping free as he fell back on to the bench and almost immediately began to soften.

 

She turned so that she was sat on the edge of the table with her feet on the bench between his thighs, and gave him an _I'm not mad but what the fuck_ kind of look.

 

“Do you...not like that?” He innocently asked.

 

“I've never done that.” She admitted. “And even if I had, do you not think that's the kind of thing you should ask permission for?”

 

“Sorry." His cheeks heated with embarrassment as he attempted to explain himself. "A lot of women do like it, though.”

 

“Might I point out that you also have an arsehole? So if you feel it's okay to do that to me, I think it only fair that I be able to return the favour.”

 

“What!? You want to...”

 

“A lot of men like it.” She humorously reasoned.

 

“Okay, I see what you're doing: no butt stuff.”

 

“Thank you.” She shimmied off the table and on to his lap, wrapping her fingers around his semi-erection to coax him back to attention.

 

“So you've really never?”

 

“Does that surprise you?” She chuckled.

 

“Well...yes, actually. You're so liberal, I'd expected you'd tried everything at least once.”

 

“I've fucked other people's arses.” She proudly admitted. “Just never fancied it myself.”

 

“Not even a pinky-finger?”

 

“Rutherford, if you're prepared to receive the same treatment you can stick whatever you like in my arse.” She smiled, wickedly, knowing full well he would never agree to such terms.

 

“Can I still lick it?”

 

“Of course. I rather like it when you do.” His cock in her hand was now standing at full attention, so she lifted herself up and slowly sank back down on to him. “Now, what say we get back to fucking?”

 

He ripped open her shirt and ravished her breasts as she vigorously rode him. Oh the noises this man made; they were enough to deliver a swift orgasm all on their own. She pulled his face away from her chest to kiss him, biting down on his lip when she finally crested.

 

Instead of joining her however, he picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen and down the hall.

 

“Where are you taking me?” She laughed.

 

“I haven't shown you the bedroom yet.” No sooner had he said it than they entered said bedroom and he practically threw her down on to the gigantic bed.

 

She bit her thumb and smiled cheekily as he stared down at her.

 

“Maker, what did I do to deserve you?” He covered her body with his own and gazed reverently at her face.

 

“Something terrible, no doubt.” She slid her fingers in to his hair and pulled him in to a deep kiss, which soon turned frantic.

 

She dug her fingers in to the flesh of his backside as he entered her again, though much slower than before. He peppered her neck and chest with open-mouthed kisses as he languorously lead her towards another peak. His mouth latched on to hers as they approached the precipice, kissing passionately until they climaxed as one. She all-but screamed his name, and she rather hoped she'd misheard his next breathless words.

 

“Fuck, I love you.”

 

Her eyes widened to saucers and she instantly stopped breathing, but Cullen just slid on to the bed beside her then, using her breast as a pillow, obliviously yawned and promptly fell asleep.

 

Her every instinct was telling her to run. She wanted to shout, to tell those little voices in her head to fuck off. This was Cullen: the only person she had ever truly felt a connection to, he was so sweet and patient and fucking gaatlok in bed. She didn't want to loose him, not now, but she couldn't lie to him either. She didn't even know what love was, how was she supposed to know if that's what she was feeling?

 

Perhaps she'd get lucky and he'd just forget he ever said it.

 

Because luck was ever her forte.

 

* * *

 

The following morning she was awoken by the smell of coffee wafting through the room.

 

“Mmmm, is that Antivan?” She dreamily sighed, eyes still closed. She felt the bed dip beside her and then a kiss on her temple. She opened her eyes and instantly smiled at his relaxed and contented expression. “Good morning handsome.”

 

“I made breakfast.”

 

She followed him out of the bedroom, wrapped in a blanket as the air was chilly, and took a seat at the kitchen table.

 

“I could get used to this.” She approved, surveying the spread he'd put out. “You know, you are awfully prepared considering this was a last minute trip.”

 

He chuckled. “I've been waiting for the right moment to bring you hear for some time. I've had people working on it for weeks and managed to send word ahead just in time for our arrival.”

 

“Sneaky.” She took a bite of her toast, surveying the room once more as she chewed. "Cullen...do you know what my favourite colour is?"

 

He smiled, triumphantly. "I know you tell people it's black...but in actual fact it's green."

 

"How - I don't think I've ever told you that."

 

"I'm observant." He smirked, taking a bite of his own toast.

 

They ate their breakfast in contemplative silence, casting frequent heated glances at each other. She was glad that he didn't seem to be letting his shock postcoital confession, or her lack of reciprocation, make things awkward.

 

“Listen, about what I said last night.”

 

 _Ah, shit._ It was as though he had read her mind.

 

“I didn't plan it, it just...slipped out. And I honestly never expected you to say it back. I don't want you to feel pressured, I know you're not there yet.”

 

She swallowed the mouthful of coffee she'd been holding since he began speaking. “Thank you for understanding.” Pitiful words to a man who deserved so much more. “And thank you for bringing me here. I've really enjoyed having you all to myself.”

 

And there was that endearing blush.

 

“You know, we do still have a couple of hours left before we really have to leave.”

 

“Oooh, are you thinking what I'm thinking?” She salaciously purred.

 

“Oh, I'd put money on it.”

 

“So...Sitting room? Bathroom? Study?”

 

“Yes.” Was the last coherent word either of them spoke until every room had been tainted at least once by their unholy union.

 

The ride back to Skyhold would be an uncomfortable one, but oh so worth it.

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of lovely Cullen smut, and Olivia's father finally makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I profusely apologise for the delay in updating this. I initially had a much darker chapter written, but right before posting I decided I wasn't happy with it and completely changed it!
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait...

She and Dorian had been casually chatting about the more sordid details of Cullen's surprise mini-break for just long enough that she'd had a touch too much wine. She began to giggle to herself as she thought about telling Dorian of Cullen's proposed future cohabitation.

 

“What?” He squinted, voice dripping with suspicion.

 

She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. “Nothing.”

 

“You honestly think that's going to wash?” He looked at her as though she were simple.

 

“Fine - but you can't breath a word of this to anyone!” She threatened, pointing a stern finger at him and almost prodding his nose.

 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He cautiously swiped her hand to the side, as though it were a loaded weapon.

 

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “After Corypheus is dealt with, and the Inquisition is no longer needed, he wants us to...live together.”

 

Dorian was speechless, though only for a moment. “Why didn't you tell me this immediately!?”

 

“Calm your tits, I'm not finished.”

 

“There's more!?” He eagerly probed, feet swinging in the air behind him as he lounged on his stomach, chin resting on his interlocked knuckles, listening with rapt attention.

 

“He may have...also...told me he loves me.”

 

Now he truly was lost for words; she'd achieved the impossible.

 

“It's insane, right?” She sat cross-legged on her bed beside him, nervously chewing her thumb nail as she replayed Cullen's words in her mind.

 

“Tell me _everything_!” Dorian excitedly demanded as soon as he was able to form words again.

 

“Calm down, you insatiable gossip.” She chastised. “It wasn't some huge romantic gesture or anything, it just...slipped out.”

 

“How exactly does _I love you_ just _slip out_?”

 

It took her a moment of careful contemplation to figure out the best way to describe it. “Cullen tends to...express himself...at the point of completion.”

 

“He said it as he came!?” He almost shouted, disapprovingly.

 

“Well of course it sounds bad when you say it like that!”

 

He suddenly grimaced. “How heartbroken was he when you didn't say it back?”

 

“Why are you so sure I didn't?” She asked without emotion, giving nothing away.

 

“Because I know you.” He smiled warmly at his dearest friend. “And if there's one person more petrified by the prospect of love than me, it's you.”

 

“I love _you_.” She sincerely confessed. “I've never had a friend like you before.”

 

“I...” He touched a hand to his chest, though it wasn't with his usual over-exaggerated flare. “The feeling is more than mutual, dearest cousin.”

 

If there was one good thing to come from this whole Inquisition madness, it was certainly the friendship she'd forged with this kindred spirit. She'd never really managed to figure out the whole _friends_ thing, having moved around as often as she did. She had no idea what she'd been missing until she was forced to remain within a certain proximity of the same group of people for more than a few months.

 

“Is this the part where we hug?” She mocked, bringing the tone of their conversation back down to a more comfortable level.

 

“Ha!” He laughed. “I'm not even sure you know how.”

 

They both chuckled as Dorian topped up their drinks, clinking their goblets in mutual appreciation of one another.

 

“So I'm guessing you're both just pretending it never happened?”

 

“Actually, we were both rather mature about it.”

 

He glared at her as though he didn't believe a word of it.

 

“Okay, _I_ was prepared to pretend it never happened but _he_ brought it up the next day - said he hadn't planned to say it and didn't want me to feel pressured in to saying it back, because he knew I _wasn't there yet_.”

 

“Is that true?”

 

She slowly filled her mouth with wine before loudly swallowing.

 

“Olivia Trevelyan, do you love him?”

 

“Of course not - maybe - I don't know!” Her voice became shriller with each syllable in her rising panic. “How do people even decide these things?”

 

He cocked his head sympathetically, if a little patronising. “Darling, I don't think anyone _decides_ who to love.”

 

“Well I don't know how any of this works and, quite frankly, I have neither the time nor inclination to try to figure it out.”

 

“Well I suppose that's that then.” He commented with an air of finality, putting a firm end to the subject.

 

“Anyway, how are... _things with you_?” She knowingly smirked.

 

He pinched the bridge of his perfectly chiselled nose and sighed. “That brother of yours is driving me up the wall.”

 

“So tell him to fuck off, that usually works for me.” Paying Dorian only half of her attention, she moved around her desk to sift through the paperwork that had gathered in her brief absence.

 

“Well that's the thing you see, I'm not entirely sure I want him to.”

 

She stopped deathly still and slowly lifted her gaze to the uncharacteristically anxious mage. “Pardon?”

 

“I know, I know: what about Bull?” He argued on her behalf. “But what kind of future do an Altus and a Qunari really have?”

 

She shrugged, hoping his question was rhetorical.

 

“Truth be told I have no future with _any_ man if I'm to someday take my fathers place in the Magisterium, at least not in any lawful capacity...but your brother seems to understand that. At least he and I could be seen together: I could never walk the streets of Minrathous with Bull.”

 

“Dorian, you are aware that he's married?”

 

“Yes, of course I am. To the perfect wife, by the sounds of it.”

 

“If by _perfect_ you mean couldn't give a shit what he does so long as he puts a few babies in her belly, then yes, I suppose she is.”

 

Talk of their love lives soon reverted back to less serious subject matter, though she wasn't quite able to give Dorian her full attention. Her thoughts kept drifting towards Cullen and his apparent willingness to allow her full control of their _relationship_.

 

She shivered at the repugnant word.

 

Everything she had tried so far to scare him off had completely failed. Was this really it? Was he the man she was destined the spend the rest of her life with? Of course, there would still be the hurdle of her father to conquer. She suspected Lord Trevelyan would have a number of objections; first and foremost that he'd gain nothing from it himself.

 

When Dorian eventually bade her farewell, she decided to unwind with a bath before attempting to tackle the mountain of reports on her desk. She tied her hair up and lay there until her fingertips pruned, then reluctantly extricated herself, threw on a light robe and got comfortable behind her desk.

 

She didn't really remember reading more then a sentence or two before waking up in the cradle of Cullen's strong arms.

 

“Are you carrying me to bed?” She groggily quirked.

 

He chuckled deeply, and she delighted in the sound of it. “Using your paperwork as a pillow is a sure fire way to get a bad neck - believe me.”

 

He placed her down gently on the bed, but before he had a chance to let her go she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled him down for a long and sensual kiss.

 

He cleared his throat when she finally allowed him to breath. “I should carry you to bed more often.”

 

“Did you need me for something?”

 

“Hmm?” Still dazed from the unexpected kiss, he wasn't able to say much more than that.

 

“Why are you here?” She laughed.

 

“Oh - I...uh...it can wait - you're clearly exhausted.”

 

“I'm far too aroused to sleep now.” She flashed him a predatory grin. “So you better tell me quickly before I put that talented tongue of yours to better use.”

 

“It's actually a bit of a moot point now - I just wanted to make sure everything was okay after...you know.”

 

“Our dirty night away?”

 

“You know what I mean.” He humorously retorted, an endearingly bashful blush heating his cheeks. “Look, can we just forget I said it?”

 

She lifted her head off the pillow, leaning back on her elbows. “Do you wish you hadn't?”

 

He stared blankly at her for what seemed like an extraordinary amount of time. “Honestly, yes.”

 

She involuntarily cast her eyes down to her naval, filled with a sense of...was it disappointment?

 

“Not because I didn't mean it.” He quickly attempted to assuage her. “I just...wish I'd waited for a more appropriate moment. I know how reluctant you are when feelings are involved and I don't want to scare you off -”

 

“Cullen.” She mercifully interrupted. “I promise you, we're fine.”

 

He rewarded her mercy with one of his signature half-smirks.

 

“Now why don't you take off your clothes and...” She didn't manage to finish the sentence before being rendered mute by an intense yawn.

 

“Tempting, as that sounds,” He chuckled. “I think you should get some sleep.”

 

She grumbled in reluctant agreement, but as he stood to leave she was struck with a case of verbal diarrhoea. “You don't...have to go - I mean unless you need to.” She stuttered, nervously avoiding eye contact.

 

He tilted his head, quizzically. “Do you _want_ me to stay?”

 

“I don't... _not_ want you to stay.”

 

She could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he fought to contain some witty jape about her going soft, but he valiantly managed it.

 

“I'd love to.” He grinned, quickly shedding his clothes as he made his way around the other side of the bed.

 

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Not that word again.”

 

“I said _to_ , not _you_.” He shot back, slipping under the covers and pulling her in to a slow kiss. “I do though.”

 

She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly realised she had nothing prepared. She stared at him until the tension became too much to bear, then slowly pressed her lips to his and languidly kissed him.

 

He seemed happy enough with her response, returning her soft kisses as he pulled the blankets over them both. They eventually fell asleep, cocooned in each others arms.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Cullen awoke alone. Olivia had apparently risen early to continue sifting through her mountain of paperwork, though unbeknownst to him had only managed one single letter before having a miniature meltdown.

 

“Commander.” Josephine's voice carried across the great hall where many were still eating breakfast.

 

“Yes, Ambassador?” He politely replied as they both moved towards each other.

 

“Have you seen the Inquisitor? I've been searching for her all morning but can't find her anywhere.”

 

“Not since last night - I mean, yesterday evening.” He quickly corrected himself, immediately reddening under her scrutinising gaze. “I'll help you look.” He nervously blurted before turning on his heel and heading straight for the waterfall beneath the keep.

 

He knew Josephine was no fool: she'd surely heard them at it in the war room on a number of occasions; though all involved seemed perfectly happy to never speak of it.

 

He spotted Olivia as soon as he entered the old dungeon. "There you are: Josephine's been looking everywhere for - are you stoned?”

 

“Not yet.” She spoke without breathing, eventually exhaling a large plume of smoke that almost obscured her from view.

 

He made his way to the end of the walkway and sat down beside her, legs dangling off the edge above the waterfall. “What's wrong?”

 

She took another long drag before offering the joint to Cullen. “My father wrote me.”

 

“Bad news?” He politely declined with a wave of his hand.

 

“You could say that.” She took another drag, holding it in for several long seconds, then slowly exhaled. “He's planning a visit - on his way as we speak, actually.”

 

“I take it from your choice of herb that you'd rather he weren’t?”

 

“We haven't really been on speaking terms since I moved out.”

 

“How long is that, exactly?”

 

"Well, lets see: I left home when I turned 16, moved to Orlais to study, dropped out about a year later, met some bards, convinced them to teach me, eventually grew tired of that, became a bit of a nomad; wandering from relative to distant relative - did I ever tell you I lived in a brothel for an entire summer?"

 

"Uhh..."

 

"They even offered me a job when I said I was leaving - had to decline, sadly. I ran in to a distant uncle one night, you see, and took that as my queue to get out of Orlais."

 

"Where did you go?"

 

"Everywhere. I never stayed in one city for more than a few months. Being a Lady is pretty much a free pass to stay with any noble whose ever heard your name. I was polite, courteous, never outstayed my welcome - and each night I'd sneak away to anonymously drink, gamble and whore." She took another long drag of her joint. “And smoke.”

 

"Did you never return home?"

 

"Just once or twice a year - usually for some tedious social occasion just to keep up appearances. Wouldn't want anybody thinking we were a dysfunctional family now would we?"

 

"So, what brought you to the conclave? I can't actually believe I've never asked you that before."

 

"Boredom...mostly."

 

"And besides that?"

 

She smiled, sardonically. "Honestly, despite my wealth, freedom and the endless parties: I guess I was just beginning to feel a bit..."

 

"Lonely?"

 

She nodded. "Nothing made me happy - I felt...insignificant; as though my entire life was completely pointless."

 

"So you were hoping to reconnect with the Maker?" He japed.

 

"Of course not, shut up." She smacked his shoulder as she tried not to smile. "I wanted to witness something extraordinary."

 

"You were in favour of the mage uprising then?" It was a knee-jerk reaction, but he couldn't help feeling slightly perturbed.

 

"I had nothing against Templar's." She attempted to placate him. "But I suppose a part of me _had_ always routed for them - I owe my life to a mage, remember. I actually hoped I'd find her there."

 

"Did you?"

 

“No.” She shook her head. "As far as I know she perished in the explosion."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

She smiled, sadly.

 

“So, getting back to the subject of your father: why is he coming here - what does he want?”

 

“He didn't say.”

 

“Any guesses?”

 

“Just one.”

 

He stared expectantly at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

 

“A marriage proposal...most likely.”

 

He stared blankly at her for a few unbearable seconds. “I'm sorry, what?”

 

“That's how these things work in my world, Cullen. Theo had an arranged marriage, why wouldn't my father do the same for me?” She could hear the leather of his gloves creaking as he repeatedly balled his hands in to fists.

 

“And what happens to us after you're married to some rich royal prick?” He snatched the joint from her fingers and took several drags of his own.

 

She laughed, his annoyed scowl only making her laugh harder. “I'd never agree to it, you silly man - not now.”

 

His frown lines relaxed slightly, but his posture remained tense. “Not now?”

 

“You had to push for more, didn't you?” She growled in annoyance.

 

He smirked that infuriating half smirk of his. “You love me." He accused, grinning like a mad man.

 

"Don't be ridiculous." She spoke through clenched teeth, trying her best to fight the smirk attempting to ruin her stony mask.

 

"It's alright, you don't have to say it." He cockily retorted. "We both know its true: it was inevitable, really."

 

She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. "Cullen, I..."

 

His curious smile faltered, as though he expected her to finally say it.

 

"I...think we should probably stop smoking."

 

He frowned, though it was more of an attempt to suppress a look of disbelieving suspicion than anything else.

 

“I'd say that was a good idea.” He agreed, flicking the remainder of the joint in to the waterfall below.

 

Cullen stood first then offered her a hand to help her to her feet.

 

“Could you just do one thing for me before I go find Josephine?”

 

“Sure, what is it?”

 

“I'd really like for us to go back to my quarters, get _completely_ naked and have you fuck me _really_ hard and _really_ fast.”

 

That, he was not expecting. “Uhh...after you.” He gestured towards the door, trying admirably to contain his excitement.

 

It took less then three minutes to sneak back to her quarters, miraculously unseen, and even less to rid themselves of their clothes. They kissed fiercely for a few seconds before Olivia turned herself around and braced herself on the large desk.

 

“Remember: hard and fast.”

 

He pressed his front to her back, hands wildly caressing her entire body; unable to settle on just one part of her. She reached between her legs to angle him, and without preamble he thrust himself inside her to the hilt.

 

As he roughly pounded in to her, his hands slid up from her hips to grasp her breasts as he swept his tongue along her spine; gently chewing on the flesh of her back and shoulders as her cries of pleasure heightened his own arousal tenfold.

 

“Faster.” She panted, fingernails digging in to the wooden desk as she struggled to keep herself upright.

 

He did as his Inquisitor commanded, sweat dripping down his back as he picked up the pace.

 

“Harder.” She demanded through gritted teeth, clearly in the mood for a side of pain with her pleasure.

 

Their slapping flesh soon drowned out all other sound in the room as Cullen delivered what he suspected was the roughest sex they'd had yet. He released his grip on one of her breasts to seek out and stimulate her clit. He was so close to erupting - he was amazed he'd lasted as long as he had but he'd be damned if he didn't make her scream first.

 

She let loose a breathless whine of approval when his fingers found the perfect rhythm. “Yes,” She loudly moaned. “Just like that.”

 

“I won't last much longer.” He growled beside her ear.

 

“I'm almost...there.” No sooner had she said it before she clenched around him and moaned so loudly that he was satisfied enough to call it a scream.

 

Unfortunately, he was far too wrapped up in the sensation of her to even think about pulling out, burying himself deep and filling her with so much seed that it immediately began to drip out of her and on to the floor below.

 

“Fuck me.” He breathed, dropping his forehead on to her shoulder blade as he gripped her hips for a moment of support.

 

“You certainly did.” She breathlessly chuckled. “I'm not sure I'll be able to walk after that.”

 

He quickly slipped out of her and turned her to face him. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

 

“Just the right amount.” She assured him, sitting herself on the desk to wrap her legs around his waist and pulled him in to a heated kiss.

 

“Well, that was all rather...unexpected. Feel better?”

 

She chuckled as she kissed his scarred lip. “Much.”

 

He pushed her long red tresses out of her sweat-slicked face as he gazed in to her eyes in a way that _should_ have made her feel a lot more uncomfortable than it did. It was a gaze that said far more than any words could; one of intense longing and utter adoration.

 

She reached up to touch a reverent finger to his scarred lip, slowly working her way over one stubbled cheek, around his eye socket and along his forehead to the frown lines between his brow, then down his flawlessly sculpted nose and back to where she started.

 

“I like you...very much.” The nervous tremble in her voice only served to make her words that much more sincere.

 

“That'll do.” He smiled, triumphantly.

 

“Hand me that cloth will you? I'm not sure my legs are steady enough, just yet.”

 

He kissed her on her nose then sauntered over to her wash basin to wet two cloths. He tossed one to her then proceeded to clean himself.

 

“You really do have the prettiest cock - has anyone ever told you that?”

 

“Actually - “

 

“Not another word, Rutherford.” An altogether unwelcome voice shouted up from the bottom of the stairs. “I'm coming up.”

 

She frantically threw on a robe, almost losing her footing in the process, as Cullen struggled to get at least his pants back on.

 

“Theodore!” She angrily chastised. “How long have you been listening?”

 

“Just a few minutes: I didn't want to interrupt,” He smirked, like the little shit that he was. “You sounded like you were enjoying yourselves.”

 

She made a disgusted sound, shivering with revulsion. “You're fucking sick, do you know that?”

 

“Surprisingly enough, you're not the first person to tell me that.”

 

“What the fuck do you want!?”

 

“Perhaps I should go.” Cullen was clearly uncomfortable with the tone of the twins conversation.

 

“There's no need.” She immediately fired back, misdirecting some of her anger. “He's not staying.”

 

“I come in peace, dear sister.” He held up his hands in submission. “I just wanted to make sure you'd gotten one of these, too.” He retrieved an envelope from his pocket, bearing the Trevelyan family seal.

 

“Yes I got one!” She yelled. “Would have been nice to have had a bit more warning!”

 

“If you're suggesting I found out any sooner than you did, you're wrong.”

 

“Is that all?” She impatiently demanded. “Or do you actually have something useful to tell me?”

 

“Look, I know you're stressed, so I won't take that personally. Granted, I'm not entirely sure what went on between the two of you, but our father is not the villain you think he is.”

 

“That's easy for you to say; you were always his favourite.”

 

“Just as you were mothers.”

 

“And just look what good that did me!”

 

He shook his head and loudly exhaled. “I can't talk to you when you're like this.”

 

“Good, I never asked you too!”

 

“Goodbye Cullen.” He shouted up as he descended the stairs before slamming the door behind him.

 

She breathed deeply for a few tense minutes, before working up the courage to see what kind of reaction Cullen had had to that ridiculous display.

 

Besides obviously being uncomfortable, he looked mostly sympathetic. She supposed that was better than thinking she was deranged.

 

“Sorry.” She meekly apologised.

 

“Don't be.” He reassured her, moving closer to hold her against his still magnificently bare chest. “I have siblings too, remember.”

 

She sighed heavily. “What am I going to do?”

 

* * *

 

It was just two days before a runner brought news of her fathers final approach. Josephine had spent the entire previous day ensuring that everything was practically perfect, not to mention the welcome feast currently overwhelming the kitchen.

 

As that mornings war council meeting approached its conclusion, she began hyperventilating at the prospect of having to greet him; as though she were pleased to see him. Thankfully only Cullen noticed her panicking as the others began filing out of the room.

 

“Just give us a few minutes.” She heard Cullen whisper to the others before closing the door behind them.

 

“I can't do it.” She shook her head from side to side, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “He makes me feel like such a useless child.”

 

“Olivia.” He attempted to interrupt her nervous ramblings, though completely failed to capture her attention.

 

He took a hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers in a desperate bid to both shut her up and calm her down. Considering the tense atmosphere in the room, the kiss was a breath taker. She looked positively dumbstruck when he pulled away.

 

“What was that for?” She all but breathed.

 

“I thought it might distract you from your impending meltdown.” He smirked at her dreamy expression. “Did it work?”

 

“Distract?” She shrugged. “Turned me on a bit.”

 

She reached for his fur and pulled him back to her, devouring that irresistible scar of his with a hunger she would have thought impossible with the knowledge that her father was less than a mile away.

 

He picked her up and sat her on the war table, grinding his own eagerness against her until she couldn't stand the tease any longer. She loosened his laces just enough to free him then helped him with her own. She lifted herself up as he pulled her pants down to her boots, but since she was wearing her thigh-highs they wouldn't go nearly low enough to let him as close as she needed him.

 

He dropped to one knee, intending to unlace them.

 

“We don't have time.” She growled. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to get these damn things on?”

 

“Fine.” He growled back, before lifting her legs over his shoulders - the gap between her thighs just large enough to permit his head - and immediately began gorging himself on the feast before him.

 

She whined when he stopped to pull off a glove with his teeth, sliding her fingers in to his hair to guide him back to her as soon as he was done. He didn't touch her with his now bare hand though, so she could only assume he was touching himself; which made her exceedingly more aroused.

 

Her fathers imminent arrival long forgotten, she moaned words of praise and encouragement as he worked his usual magic; bringing her to a rather satisfying climax in a matter of minutes.

 

She fell backwards with a load thud. “Why does it always sound as though you enjoy that just as much as I do?”

 

"I could eat you all day.” The intensity in his tone told her he was still touching himself as he lapped up the culinary delight of her heavenly nectar. “In fact I could quite happily survive on a diet of you alone."

 

"That could get a little awkward if we ever have guests over for dinner." She chuckled, lifting her legs from his shoulders and hopped down off the table.

 

He rose to his feet before her and she immediately attacked his mouth, revelling in the taste of herself on his tongue as she reached her hand down to mercifully finish him off.

 

With one hand on her arse and the other holding them both upright on the table behind her, he bit down on her lip when he finally came.

 

She blindly pulled her smalls back up as she continued to kiss him, squirming slightly at the wetness of them. “I think you came in my pants.”

 

He barked a startled laugh before pressing his lips together. “Something to lighten the mood if things get a bit intense?”

 

She smiled, sincerely. “Thank you.”

 

“Happy to jizz in your knickers any time.” He playfully retorted.

 

“That _is not_ what I was referring to.” She endearingly chastised. “We should probably go, before he barges in here himself.”

 

“Now _that_ would make for a lasting first impression.”

 

* * *

 

Her father had brought with him three ships full of his banner men, the majority of whom had set up camp just outside of Skyhold in the Valley below. Her immediate response was to feel threatened, as though he planned to oust her and take control of the Inquisition himself.

 

“Father, I'm so pleased you're here.” She smiled as best she could, and in all likelihood only Cullen and Dorian - perhaps Vivienne - would recognise it as a lie. “I hope the journey wasn't too taxing?”

 

She didn't pay much attention to his false pleasantries, waiting until he fell silent to carry on with her own speech.

 

“Allow me to introduce you to my advisers.” She motioned to the tidy procession beside her. “Our Ambassador and chief diplomat: Lady Josephine Montilyet. Our Spymaster: Leliana; whom you will know as Sister Nightingale, former left hand of the divine. Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, seeker of truth, former right hand of the divine and invaluable travelling companion. And lastly, the man responsible for training our militia and bringing many a Templar in to the fold: Commander Cullen Rutherford.” She silently scolded herself when she realised she'd been staring a little dreamily at the latter of the four.

 

“Everyone, this is my father: Lord Barclay Trevelyan.”

 

“I've heard very impressive things, I look forward to getting to know you all a lot better.”

 

Cue Josephine. “Lord Trevelyan, might I give you a tour and show you were you'll be staying?” The woman really was an asset. “We have some time before this evenings festivities begin.”

 

“That's very kind of you Lady Montilyet, but you really needn't have gone to so much trouble.”

 

She watched in grateful silence as the pair sauntered off then disappeared in to the undercroft.

 

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse.” Cullen spoke quietly beside her.

 

“Yes,” She reluctantly admitted, “It's rather unsettling.”

 

He reached a hand towards her, wanting to offer her some comfort, but quickly remembered they weren’t alone. He balled his hand in to a fist and let it fall to his side. “We'll get through this together, I promise.”

 

She smiled nervously up at him. “You should get back to work, I'm sure he'll want to see you in action.”

 

He stared at her for as long as he dared, before someone got the wrong - or rather the right - idea about them. “I really wish I could kiss you right now.” He barely moved his lips as he spoke, glancing around the room in a bid for discretion.

 

“Me too.” She whispered back, before turning away from him and heading back to her quarters.

 

* * *

 

Josephine had blessedly kept her father occupied since his arrival, but once the banquet had begun there was no avoiding him. Theo had somehow managed to score himself a seat next to Dorian, despite Josephine's fancy seating plan.

 

The throne had been moved temporarily out of the hall to make way for the top table. She and her father were sat in the middle, with Cullen and Cassandra next to her and Josephine and Leliana next to him.

 

“The food is surprisingly varied considering your location. You clearly have some excellent trade agreements in place.”

 

“All thanks to Josephine.” She brushed off the compliment before he had the chance to turn it in to a criticism.

 

“Oh, don't be so modest, Inquisitor.” Josephine piped up. “A lot of our trading partners only signed on after you personally spoke with them.”

 

“I don't doubt it.” He immediately responded. “Even as a girl she was able to hold a conversation with the brightest diplomats and trickiest politicians.”

 

“I wish I could have seen that.” Josephine elegantly trilled.

 

After the fifth or sixth course - she'd honestly lost track - Josephine had blessedly offered to show her father the gardens.

 

She owed Josephine...big time.

 

Everyone besides she and Cullen had left their seats, and although they were clearly conversing with one another they were doing a rather impressive job of making it seem like awkward small talk as opposed to what it really was.

 

“I'm hungry.” He moodily growled.

 

“I'm not surprised, you barely touched your food - oh.” The sudden weight of his hand on her thigh told her what he really meant. “Still trying to stick to that special diet of yours?”

 

“Think you could slip away for a few minutes?”

 

She whined in frustration, wanting nothing more than to straddle him where he sat, but also knowing that now just wasn't the time.

 

His hand slid higher up her thigh, until his little finger made contact with her mound.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“If I can't have you on my tongue, then I at least want you on my fingers.”

 

She muffled a shocked gasp with a goblet of wine against her lips. “My father could return at any moment.”

 

“Then I'll stop - but until then...”

 

He began to rub teasing circles against her, and damn her will power but all she could do was open her legs a little wider.

 

She grit her teeth and dug her nails in to the wooden table as she began to feel that all too familiar tingle that told her an orgasm was slowly building.

 

She tried her hardest not to let the pleasure she was feeling show, but every now and then a breathy whine would slip out.

 

“Commander...” She pleaded. She was so close, and she didn't believe for a second that she would be able to _quietly_ climax.

 

“What don't you try the cake.” He hurriedly suggested. “I hear it's orgasmic.”

 

She shovelled a forkful in to her mouth and tried her best to channel her moan of carnal fulfilment in to one of confectionery delight.

 

She eventually swallowed the mouthful of cake as her panting breaths slowed, glancing discreetly around the room to ensure she hadn't attracted anybody's attention. Nobody was looking in her direction...except for Bull, who was staring at her with a childish grin.

 

All the colour drained from her face as she realised he knew exactly what had just happened, but before she could react he simply winked at her then returned his attention to his own table.

 

“Are you well? You look a little flushed.” Her fathers sudden appearance made her literally jump.

 

“Fine.” She tried not to blush at the sight of Cullen in her peripherals discreetly sniffing his fingers. “Just a little too much wine, I think.”

 

“Then perhaps this might be a good time to step away? I was hoping we might speak in private for a moment?”

 

The high from her very recent orgasm completely dissipated. “Of course.” She gulped. “My quarters are just over there. Shall we?”

 

He followed behind her at a respectful distance, closing each door as they passed through.

 

“Drink?” She offered, to break the silence.

 

“Please.” He courteously responded before glancing around the room to take in the décor. “I like what you've done with the place.”

 

She slammed the bottle in her hand down a little harder than intended, her frayed nerves finally unravelling. “You can drop the act now, nobody's listening.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She turned to face him, determined to say her piece. “You've been nothing but complimentary since you arrived, I'm sure you're sick of it by now - just tell me why you're really here.”

 

“Is it so hard to believe that I wanted to see my daughter?”

 

“We've been in the same city as each other no more than eight times in the past ten years, why now?”

 

“Look, I realise you and I haven't exactly been close since your mother died, but I was hoping that enough time might have passed for that to change.”

 

“So you've just suddenly decided to stop blaming me then?”

 

“Blaming you?” He repeated, clearly confused. “For what?”

 

“You may not have said it, but I could see it in your eyes every single time you looked at me: you blamed me for what she did. And why not? _I'm_ the one who insisted you let me take care of her, that we didn't need strangers in the house. _I'm_ the one who always told her she wasn't crazy.”

 

“Olivia, that's just not true. I blamed nobody but myself...and to be completely honest, until this very moment I thought you did too.”

 

“Why - why would you think that?” She stuttered.

 

“You left home the minute you were old enough, under the pretence of furthering your education, _and never returned_. Was I supposed to think that was for any reason other than you couldn't stand to be under the same roof as me for a moment longer?”

 

“I left home because I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me.”

 

“So...for the past ten years we've been unnecessarily avoiding each other?”

 

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “So it would seem.”

 

“How could we have both misinterpreted things _so_ badly?”

 

She knew exactly how. “Because we never talked about it.”

 

They both sighed, heavily, before falling in to a contemplative silence.

 

She downed about three fingers of whiskey, for courage, then went straight for it. “Can we talk about her now?”

 

He looked as though he wanted to say no, but surprisingly he nodded. “What do you want to know?”

 

Where to even begin? “Is there anything I don't know that you think I should?”

 

He took a deep breath then made his way over to the couch to sit down. “Did she ever tell you that her dreams only began the night you and your brother were conceived?”

 

She shook her head, swallowing nervously before slowly making her way across the room to sit beside him.

 

“At first we thought they were just that - it actually became a bit of a game, discussing what our children might be like.”

 

“She dreamt she was having twins?”

 

“She did, though that wasn't what made us realise they were more than just dreams - she was a twin herself, after all. No, it wasn't until you were almost a year old and your great-grandmother came to visit that we were informed of her family history. Apparently there have been a number of female relatives over the years with _the gift_ , as she called it - at least one in every generation, in fact.”

 

“Did her own mother never discuss it with her?”

 

“She died when your mother was still very young, but from what her grandmother said it was all a bit of a closely guarded secret - only those affected were ever told about it.”

 

“So, you did believe her?”

 

He nodded. “When you were about thirteen, she started having terrible nightmares.”

 

“I remember.”

 

“They eventually became so violent that she insisted we sleep in separate bedrooms, because she was afraid she might hurt me.”

 

“I just thought you were having marital problems.”

 

“She found it impossible to separate her nightmares from her gift - she said she felt as though she were losing her mind.”

 

“So, that's why you made her see all those doctors?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Did she ever tell you what they were about - her nightmares, I mean? I asked her but she never would.”

 

He exhaled, making his reluctance to share quite clear.

 

“Please.” She placed her hand atop his own on the couch between them.

 

“They were always about you, actually - specifically you suffering and alone.”

 

“Well that's a cheery thought.”

 

“I was never sure how much she shared with you...but that's the reason I tried so hard to convince you that it was all part of her illness - I didn't want you to worry about anything she might have told you.”

 

“So...you really did come all this way just to reconcile?”

 

“You say that like it wasn't enormously daunting - I honestly expected you to turn me away at the gates.”

 

She laughed, sincerely. “To be honest, I'm just relieved you're not here to tell me you found me a husband.”

 

He scoffed. “What in the Makers name would ever give you that idea?”

 

“Prior to this very conversation I assumed it was all you thought I was good for - that, and you were never very approving of any of my boyfriends when I was younger.”

 

“That's because none of them were good enough for you - and I'm sorry to shatter your illusion of me being an ogre of a father, but it was always your mother who insisted I chase them off.”

 

“Truly?” She was gobsmacked.

 

“Yes.” He laughed. “She was quite convinced there was only one man for you and you wouldn't meet him until...” He stopped suddenly and laughed to himself. “Until you had a castle of your own.”

 

Her mouth fell open in shock. “Did she...say anything else about this mystery man?”

 

Her father raised an eyebrow, picking up a little more from her question than she intended to give away. “Might you be wondering if she mentioned a scar? Or blond hair, perhaps?”

 

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” She dead panned, though couldn't help the slight twitch of a grin.

 

“I'm not blind you know. The two of you have been making eyes at each other ever since I arrived.”

 

She cleared her throat, trying to fight back the blush currently warming her cheeks.

 

“I know I've no right to suddenly begin acting like your father, but just tell me one thing: is it serious?”

 

She shrugged. “I honestly don't know. Maybe it is or maybe he's just the first person I've been involved with that - due to unforeseen and rather insane circumstance - I wasn't able to run away from. Either way, we're at war.” She pathetically attempted to evade the question. “It's hardly the time for such frivolities.”

 

“Are those your words or his?”

 

“I'm just trying to get my priorities in order.” She stubbornly insisted.

 

He laughed, though his face bore a look of melancholy. “You look just like her when you're being stubborn.”

 

She smiled, sadly, though only for a moment. “So, you're honestly telling me you never had any intention of choosing a husband for me?”

 

“Never.”

 

“But, you chose Theo's wife.” She argued, not quite able to believe him.

 

“That's because I know he prefers the company of men.” He unemotionally admitted. “Don't get me wrong, I have no issue with that if it makes him happy...but he also needed an heir - so I found him a wife who had even less interest in men then he had in getting married.”

 

“You sly dog.” She approved. “You do know that Theo thinks he's just the luckiest bastard alive to have a wife with zero interest in him being around, and that you are none the wiser?”

 

“Allow him that much. He's never chosen to tell me about his...proclivities. I hope he does some day, but for now if he's more comfortable with me not knowing then I'm happy to wait.”

 

“So, you wouldn't have any...objections...if I were to choose a man who wasn't nobility?”

 

“If he treats you right and makes you happy, that's enough for me.”

 

Feeling exceedingly more relaxed around one another, they spoke openly and late in to the night, their conversation interspersed with profuse apologies for having wasted so much time assuming the other was mad at them. Eventually her father excused himself, and when she was finally alone she had a little cry - not because she was sad, but because she was exceptionally happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, I'm currently 5 months pregnant with my first child. I'm pretty sure pregnancy hormones gave me a serious case of writers block in the beginning, but I have finally started writing again! Yay me!


	17. Chapter 17

**Cullen**

 

He sat beside Olivia's brother, nervously tapping his foot on the ground as he watched her chamber door; impatiently waiting for her father to emerge so he could run immediately to her and check she was okay.

 

“She'll be fine, you know.” Theo whispered beside him after reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Dorian's retreating sashay.

 

“Pardon?” He startled.

 

Theo laughed. “Don't be coy, Commander. _A watched door never opens_.”

 

“No, I wasn't - well, I mean I was.” He grit his teeth and sighed. “I worry for her. She was very nervous about seeing him, and they've been alone for hours now.”

 

“They're more alike than either of them knows.” Theo assured him. “I'm sure whatever they're talking about is long overdue - for good or ill.”

 

“Very comforting.” He flatly retorted.

 

They both abruptly turned to the sound of Olivia's door finally opening. He'd hoped it would be her rejoining the party, but her father sadly emerged alone.

 

“Theodore.” Lord Trevelyan bellowed as said man was discreetly attempting to flee, presumably in pursuit of Dorian.

 

“Ah, shit.” The younger Lord muttered to himself before turning to offer his father a bright smile. “Yes?”

 

“A word.” Was all he said, before politely nodding to Cullen then heading off towards the guest quarters, certain in his assumption that his son would follow.

 

Cullen waited for scarcely a minute before inconspicuously strolling towards her door, took one last look over his shoulder then slipped inside.

 

* * *

 

**Olivia**

 

She'd just finished dressing for bed, too emotionally exhausted to rejoin the feast, when she heard a knock at her door. She tied on her robe then headed down the stairs to see who it was.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Of course it was Cullen. She opened the door wide in invitation then followed him back upstairs.

 

“Well?” He anxiously turned to her.

 

“I'm fine.” She sincerely smiled.

 

He let out a breath of relief she hadn't realised he'd been holding.

 

“Sorry if I worried you.”

 

“I'm just glad you're okay.” He smiled, lifting a hand to her cheek.

 

“Better than okay.” She placed her hand atop of his, turning in to his touch to bury a kiss in his palm, then grasped said hand and lead him to sit on the foot of her bed.

 

“I take it he didn't come here to marry you off, then?“

 

“No.” She snorted in affirmation. “I was way off with that prediction.”

 

“So...it was a good talk?” He enquired, hesitantly hopefully.

 

She nodded. “I should probably pre-warn you though: he knows that we're...well, whatever we are.”

 

He smiled like a child on Saturnalia morning.

 

“Before you read anything in to that, I didn't tell him.” She sternly scolded. “Apparently we're not as discreet as we think we are.”

 

He looked a little disappointed for just a second, until a smirk of realisation cracked his annoyingly handsome face. “You didn't deny it though, did you.”

 

He sounded so sure of himself, she almost wished she had denied it just so she could wipe that smug look off his face.

 

He chuckled for a moment before becoming very serious. “Did he...disapprove?”

 

It would be so easy to say yes, but even she wasn't that cruel. “No - not that it would have mattered.”

 

“So...he's okay with it - with us - you and me?” It seemed he wasn't quite able to believe it.

 

She gave him half a smile, but threw in an eye roll for good measure. “Yes.”

 

Before she could even finish her sarcastic expression, he had his fingers in her hair and had pulled her in to a dominating kiss. When he effortlessly hoisted her on to his lap, she excitedly reached for his belt, wiping it off before he had time to react, but when she reached for his laces he gently grasped her wrists to halt her.

 

She released his bottom lip from between her teeth to look quizzically down at him. He smiled, not salaciously nor cockily, but genuinely; as if there was no other place in all of Thedas he'd rather be.

 

She held on for dear life as he suddenly stood, holding her in place against him before releasing her legs so she could stand with him. He swept her long scarlet hair back over her shoulders, tracing a feather light finger over the shell of her ear, down over her pulse point and along her collar bone. He hooked a finger underneath the thin strap of her negligee and gently coaxed it down her arm, then repeated the entire process on the other side.

 

It seemed _achingly slowly_ was his intention, and she couldn't deny that it was exceedingly arousing.

 

Both straps now dangling close to her elbows, he slowly swept his hands down the length of her arms, watching reverently as her silky flesh was gradually revealed to him, until the flimsy fabric pooled around her feet. He slid the fingers of one hand in to her hair and pulled her in to a slow but forceful kiss, clearly struggling to contain his eagerness; though dead set on doing so.

 

Following his lead, she slowly ran her hands down his chest to the hem of his tunic, slipping her hands underneath and pulling it up as she lightly ran them back up his bare torso. He pulled it off the rest of the way himself when she teasingly thumbed over his nipples, stretching up on to her tiptoes to press her breasts against his delightfully bare chest as she nibbled his earlobe.

 

His grip on her hip tightened when she swept her fingertips along his pelvis to the laces of his trousers, unlacing him with a practised ease then gliding her hands over his bared buttocks as she coaxed them down.

 

He stepped out of them when they bunched around his ankles, kicking them out of the way before sliding both hands around her back to hold her close; capturing her lips in a searing kiss that seemed to make the room spin.

 

She gasped when he hoisted her in to his arms, carrying her bridal style around to the side of the bed then lay her gently down. He adoringly gazed upon her for a moment before blanketing her body with his own.

 

She'd already begun to pant at the mere touch of his bare skin, so when he seductively pressed himself more firmly between her legs, she loudly whimpered; eagerly scraping her fingers along his scalp as she pulled his face closer to devour that infuriatingly irresistible scarred lip of his.

 

He kissed a path along her jaw, down her neck and towards her chest; clearly intending to go much lower, but she couldn't wait - she needed him inside of her as surely as she needed breath in her lungs. She cupped his jaw with both hands and applied just enough pressure to stop his descent. He looked up, immediately clocking the rabid lust in her eyes, then ran his tongue back up her body; through the valley of her breasts, along the column of her throat and in to her mouth.

 

She felt him smirk as she unconsciously ground herself against him, inadvertently alerting him to her readiness. He pulled his hips away just enough to position himself, then ever so slowly thrust himself inside. He momentarily broke their kiss to press his forehead to hers, clenching his jaw to stop himself from all-out moaning, until he eventually bottomed out.

 

She immediately resumed the kiss to stifle her own embarrassingly premature moans, greedily grinding herself against his pelvis at the end of each downward stroke.

 

With his extensive experience, and well earned knowledge of her body, he brought her to climax multiple times - seemingly without even breaking a sweat - restraining himself to the brink of torture before joining her as she succumbed one final blessed time.

 

They lay in silence for a while after, her head on his shoulder and fingers lazily combing through his chest hair, listening intently as his panting breaths resumed a normal rhythm.

 

“So,” He eventually broke the silence. “What else did the two of you talk about?”

 

She leaned on her elbow beside him, lifting herself up enough to look down at his face. “He corrected me on a few things.”

 

He inhaled in mock amazement. “And lived to tell the tale?”

 

“Shut up.” She humorously chastised, prodding him in the ribs as punishment for his ill-timed jape. “Mostly we talked about my mother...it was nice.”

 

“Clearly.” He readily agreed. “I don't think I've ever seen you smile like this before.”

 

She reflexively began nibbling on her lip, trying to conceal said smile.

 

“Stop that.” He lifted a hand to her face, using his thumb to gently coax her bottom lip free of her teeth.

 

“He also insisted he and his men accompany our forces to the Arbor Wilds.”

 

“I can't say that wouldn't be extremely helpful.”

 

“No - though it does mean he's going to be around for a while: I know we've cleared the air, but I cant say I relish the idea of him breathing down my neck.”

 

Cullen mimicked her pose, propping himself on his side to face her. “Do you think I should talk to him - about you and me?”

 

“Why would you do that?” She laughed, nervously.

 

He shrugged. “It's the done thing, isn't it? Plus I'm pretty sure I'm going to ask you to marry me someday - I should probably ask his permission first.”

 

All discernible expression evaporated from her face as she gauged his sincerity.

 

He placed his hand on her hip, leaned in close and whispered. “I'm joking.”

 

She slowly released the breath she'd been holding, choosing to ignore the quiet “sort of” that almost immediately followed.

 

After a few more rounds of physical intimacy, leaving her thoroughly sated and delightfully exhausted, she inevitably fell asleep.

 

She woke not long after, shivering in the cold air, instinctively looking over to the balconies to see which door she'd mistakenly left ajar. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of a fully naked Cullen leaning against an open door, staring out over the frostbacks.

 

“Cullen?” She called out, but he didn't respond. Was he sleepwalking? “Cullen?” She tried again, a little louder this time.

 

“Hmm?” He distractedly responded, eventually turning to face her.

 

“Any chance you could close the door?” She rubbed her arms, attempting to warm herself for effect. “It's bloody freezing.”

 

He looked at the door, then back to her, realising with a concerning slowness what she was talking about. “I'm sorry.” He suddenly realised, immediately closing said door.

 

“It's fine.” She tried to reassure him, a look of bewildered amusement on her face. “But I think it only fair you come warm me up.”

 

“Actually, I was just about to leave - it wouldn't be very respectful of me to spend the night while your father's here.”

 

She watched in silence as he headed for the stairs, assuming he'd realise his mistake at any second, though after descending a couple of steps she decided it necessary to speak up. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

 

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head, staring blankly at her for a few seconds. “Of course: how terribly rude of me.” He walked back over to her, knelt on the bed, then kissed her.

 

She laughed when he pulled away. “That was nice and all, but I was referring to your clothes.”

 

He looked down at himself.

 

“Shit." He cursed. "Well that could have been embarrassing.”

 

“Cullen, what's going on with you?” It was funny at first, but now she was beginning to worry.

 

He sighed. “I'm afraid for you.”

 

“Afraid? About what?”

 

“Pursuing a dangerous enemy through uncharted territory?” He posed it as a question, as though seeking it's validity.

 

“Afraid we'll get lost in the Arbor Wilds?” She teased, though he clearly wasn't amused.

 

“This trip might very well bring us face-to-face with Corypheus.” He gravely reasoned.

 

“You doubt our chances of success?”

 

“Of course not.” He immediately assured her. “But we have no idea what we're heading in to - either one of us could fall and I...” He sighed.

 

“What?” She prompted.

 

He stared at her for a long time, clearly struggling with the decision to speak his mind. “And I would never know how you truly felt about me.”

 

She reflexively stiffened, folding her arms as though to shield herself. “What happened to _no pressure_ , Cullen?”

 

“I'm not trying to pressure you.” He tiredly exhaled, shaking his head. “You asked what was bothering me, and I told you.”

 

They sat in uncomfortable silence until the tension became too much for either of them to stomach. She was about to speak, but he beat her to it.

 

“We have a long journey ahead of us, we should both try to get some sleep.”

 

She stared moodily at the floor in stony silence as he gathered his clothes and redressed.

 

“Cullen...wait.” She reluctantly called as he approached the stairs.

 

He turned his head just enough to look her in the eye, but did not move from his spot.

 

She opened her mouth to speak, but came up empty. She helplessly shrugged her shoulders, equally as disappointed in herself as he clearly was.

 

“Goodnight, Inquisitor.”

 

 _Ouch_. She deserved that.

 

She waited for the sound of her door closing, then collapsed back in to bed in a crumpled heap of self-pity.

 

* * *

 

 

They all agreed that Leliana's scouts would be the first to make it to the Arbor Wilds, to reek chaos and confusion amongst Corypheus forces and keep them distracted until the Inquisitions army and it's acquired allies arrived.

 

She and Cullen hadn't had a chance to speak in private about the events of their last night at Skyhold, and each night when they set up camp, neither was alone for any significant enough length of time. She looked at him whenever she could, hoping for the chance to reassure him with a smile, but it seemed he was intent on avoiding her gaze.

 

When they eventually arrived in the wilds, Cullen lead the first charge, followed in stages by Leliana and her assassins, Fiona and the mage's and then the multitude of allies they'd amassed. She wasn't a huge advocate of allowing all of these people to _clear the way_ for her arrival, but it was the plan her adviser's had agreed upon.

 

She took a moment to talk with some of the Inquisition's people, offering words of encouragement and gratitude, until she felt enough time had passed and began the journey towards the temple; which Morrigan was certain housed an eluvian.

 

She was relieved to see so many of the Inquisition's people and it's allies still fighting fiercely, though was more than a little surprised to find a number of strangely armoured elves fighting both her own people and Corypheus's forces.

 

She passed Leliana, who seemed to be enjoying herself, and eventually caught sight of Cullen with some of her fathers men. She allowed herself exactly four seconds to admire his rather intimidating presence, before rejoining the fray.

 

She heard a number of startled gasps announcing her arrival, and just as Cullen chose to sweep the field in search of her, she spotted a cloaked red Templar stalking it's way towards him.

 

She cloaked herself in turn and rushed towards the fiend, reappearing at the exact moment she buried her blades in to it's neck. Cullen turned towards the sound, ready to defend himself, but the enemy had been slain.

 

They panted with exhaustion as they silently stared at each other. She waited for him to say something, but after failing to speak for several unbearable seconds she decided to give up. She turned to continue on but he grasped her wrist and swung her back around to face him.

 

She felt his breath on her face as he spoke. “I love you.”

 

“I know.” She replied, smiling triumphantly.

 

She gripped his collar and pulled him close, bestowing him with a short but heated kiss, before pushing him away and racing towards the temple.

 

* * *

 

 

Days of waiting for the rest of the Inquisition to return to Skyhold had felt like weeks. Their own journey back had been instantaneous - thanks to Morrigan's awaiting eluvian - but the rest of their people didn’t have that luxury.

 

She'd passed the time by setting up extra tents and ensuring the clinic was fully stocked in preparation for the return of their injured soldiers. She'd also spent some time with Solas, which was something she hadn't previously put much effort in to. She'd noticed a change in him since returning from the temple, and even while they were still there. She'd never fully trusted that he was being completely honest, but something he'd said to that Abelas fellow made her even more suspicious. She supposed it could just have been an elf thing that she didn't fully understand, but she couldn't help feeling as though there was some hidden meaning in his words.

 

Sadly, she got nothing from him besides more hateful atheism.

 

Mostly though, her thoughts were occupied by one certain Commander and how childishly excited she was to see him. She thought on what could have happened if she hadn't reached that rogue red Templar in time, and quite honestly it made her feel sick. His death would have affected her - deeply. Clearly she cared for him, and it was about damn time she let him know just how much he meant to her.

 

And so it was settled: as soon as he returned, she was going to ask him to share her quarters.

 

* * *

 

Finally the day came when the Inquisition horde was spotted approaching the gate, so she dragged Dorian out to the bridge and waited impatiently to welcome their people home. She was practically buzzing with excitement, and if she knew her friend as well as she thought she did, he was looking forward to seeing someone too.

 

Her advisers were the first to appear: Josephine on the right, Leliana on the left, and Cullen in the centre. They were just blurry dots in the distance, but she easily recognised them.

 

She reflexively looked up as she felt a trickle of wet run down her cheek, though the sky was beautifully clear. She shrugged her shoulders, wiped her face, and returned her attention to the blond warrior at the head of the swelling procession.

 

It was utterly ridiculous, but she felt as though her mouth was actually watering at the mere sight of him. As she was internally chastising herself for being such a pathetically infatuated little girl, she began to slowly recognise the taste in her mouth.

 

She looked down at her hand, the one she'd used to wipe the rain from her face, though she doubted it was water that had stained her fingers red.

 

She began to cough; just a tickle of a thing at first, as though she'd accidentally inhaled a little saliva, but when she brought her hand away from her mouth she was alarmed to find it wet with blood.

 

“Dorian...I think something's wrong.” She managed to warn him, just in time for him to catch her as she collapsed; gently guiding her to her hands and knees beside him.

 

“Shit!” She heard him exclaim, before a wave of panicked cries rang out from the approaching horde.

 

Her cough turned in to a horribly wet hacking thing, making it increasingly difficult to breath. She looked down at the ground, a steadily growing pool of blood beneath her, though she couldn't make sense of where it was all coming from: her mouth, her nose, her eyes?

 

She heard Dorian call out to Cullen from beside her, then two words that made her instantly cold. “Blood Mage!”

 

She lifted her head, squinting through the mist of crimson trying its best to obscure her vision, and right before everything turned black, she saw Cullen fall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you honestly think this relationship was a done deal?
> 
> Up next: A large dose of emotional trauma.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a sad day for love.

**Theo**

 

“You know, if this is all it took to get you to play nurse, I'd have bled myself half-to-death ages ago.”

 

“That isn't funny.” Dorian scolded.

 

“Oh, lighten-up; you'll ruin that perfect face of yours if you keep frowning like that.”

 

“Well, perhaps you could behave in a manner which doesn't make me want to frown so much!” He snapped.

 

“You'd rather I throw myself on the floor beside her and cry like an infant until she wakes up?”

 

“At least then I'd know you had a heart!”

 

Theo held a hand to his chest, gasping like an actress. “You wound me.”

 

Dorian sighed, tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm just so worried about her - it's been days and she's shown no signs of waking up. And when she does, someone is going to have to tell her about Cullen -”

 

“I know.” Theo interrupted, stepping around the back of the chair Dorian had collapsed in to and began kneading the tension out of his shoulders. “Would a blow job make you feel better?”

 

“Can you be serious for one second!?” Dorian raged, launching himself on to his feet to furiously pace the room.

 

“Look, just because I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve, doesn't mean I don't have them.” He reasoned. “Of course I'm worried: she's my twin sister - if anything happened to her it would be worse then losing a limb.” He took a deep breath when he felt himself welling up. “It's just not how we do things, alright?”

 

“I'm sorry.” Dorian quietly exhaled as he slowly approached. “I sometimes forget how alike the two of you are.”

 

“It's okay.” He sighed, smoothing a hand up Dorian's arm when the drop-dead-gorgeous mage lifted a comforting hand to his face. “A blow job might help take my mind off it though.”

 

“Maker save me.” Dorian muttered to the heavens in exasperation, before Theo leaned in for quick kiss.

 

“I'm kidding.” He playfully japed. “Unless you're up for it?”

 

“Shut up and sit down.” Dorian firmly demanded. “It's time to bleed you again.”

 

* * *

 

**Olivia**

 

The light hurt her eyes as she tried to focus on her surroundings. Her mouth felt like gurn hide, and didn't taste much better.

 

“What died in my mouth?” She croaked to no one in particular.

 

“Liv?” Came a startled voice from somewhere close by.

 

She felt a hand grip her own as the voice she now recognised as her brother called for help. She blinked a few times until she was able to make out the blurry image of him crouched by her bedside. He looked terrible.

 

“Water.” She all but breathed, unsure if she had ever been quite so thirsty in her entire life.

 

Theo released his grip on her hand but was only gone for a second before he returned to help her sit up enough to drink. She growled when he pulled the cup away from her too soon, but he insisted she'd be sick if she drank any more.

 

“What the fuck happened? Did I get drunk and pass out?”

 

He loudly exhaled in what sounding like relief. “What's the last thing you remember?”

 

She tried really hard to focus on her last clear memory. “I was with Dorian,” She began. “We were on the bridge...and then - did I get sick?”

 

“No...you were attacked.”

 

“Attacked?” She startled. “By who?”

 

“A blood mage, likely compelled by Corypheus, who'd somehow managed to infiltrate our ranks during the journey back to Skyhold.”

 

“Fuck.” She rubbed at her forehead, as though the action might help clear her brain fog.

 

“It was horrible, Liv.” He all but whispered. “Dorian says the spell she used was called _Haemorrhage_ \- it was...very apt.”

 

He was quite for a moment, until the look of horror on his face eventually faded.

 

“You lost a lot of blood.” He audibly swallowed. “So much so that your heart stopped - it was for less than a minute, but it felt like hours.”

 

“How...” She wanted to ask how she'd survived, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something more important.

 

“Thankfully you've no shortage of mages. One of the spirit healers managed to restart your heart, but you needed blood - obviously I volunteered.”

 

“You gave me your blood?” She smiled weakly up at her brother.

 

“A lot of it - that's why I currently have the same sickly complexion as you.” He jokingly complained.

 

“Was she captured - the blood mage?”

 

“Ah...no.” He hesitated. “She was in fact quite brutally murdered by an angry mob of your adoring fans.”

 

Dorian then came bursting through the door with a healer in tow.

 

“Thank the Maker!” He cried, crossing the room in three quick strides to kneel by the side of her cot. “I was so worried - how are you feeling?”

 

“That's quite enough fuss.” The healer stepped in. “Now make some room while I examine her.”

 

After being shushed by the healer several times, the room fell silent while the woman carried out her observations.

 

“You're going to be weak for at least a few days, but I see no reason why you won't make a full recovery. Andraste truly blessed you, Inquisitor.”

 

“I expect you had far more to do with it than Andraste.” She sincerely reasoned, placing a hand atop the woman's. “Thank you.”

 

“I...” She hesitated, clearly taken aback by her gratitude. “You're very welcome, Inquisitor.”

 

The healer tidied up her things then left the three of them alone in the infirmary.

 

“Was anyone else hurt?” She was appalled with herself for not thinking to ask sooner.

 

Theo and Dorian glanced at each other.

 

“Who?” She demanded.

 

Dorian took a deep breath and sighed, then made his way across the room to a curtain. He pulled it back slowly, revealing a deathly still body.

 

“Cullen!” She cried, tripping over her own feet as she tried unsuccessfully to make her way to him.

 

“Liv, you're too weak.” Theo tried to reason.

 

“Then help me!” She snapped.

 

He didn't argue, shouldering her weight and walking her to the Commanders bedside.

 

“What happened? And why isn't he waking up?” She demanded, as she settled on the cot beside him.

 

Theo and Dorian looked at each other again.

 

“Will one of you kindly tell me what the fuck happened to him!”

 

“The mage who attacked you...”

 

“She did this to him?”

 

“No...not exactly.”

 

“Just tell me.” She pleaded.

 

“No one could get near her.” Dorian began. “She'd shrouded herself in dark magic - nothing could penetrate it - so Cullen...”

 

“We think,” Theo took over. “That he used the last of his Templar abilities to silence her. Without her connection to the fade, her assault on you ended and we were able to take her out.”

 

“And he's been like this ever since?”

 

“No.” Dorian sighed. “It's just a theory, but Cassandra thinks that by doing what he did he inadvertently used up the last of his lyrium reserves, resulting in a...chronic state of withdrawal.”

 

“He wasn't himself.” Theo continued. “He was suffering; he _begged_ for lyrium, became unreasonable and...eventually violent.”

 

“So the decision was made to sedate him - for his own safety and that of those around him.”

 

“When will it wear off?” So many questions, but all she wanted to know was when she would be able to speak with him.

 

“Liv -”

 

“When!?” She demanded.

 

“He was last dosed just before you woke up - so about four hours, give or take.”

 

“Leave us.”

 

“Liv, you don't know what he's capable of -”

 

“Leave us!”

 

“ _Fine_.” Theo snapped. “But don't say we didn't warn you.”

 

“We'll be right outside.” Dorian assured her.

 

She waited until the door closed behind them, then pressed her forehead to his and prayed to the Maker for his swift recovery.

 

* * *

 

Refusing to leave his side and return to her own cot, she must have fallen asleep in the chair at his bedside. A loud crash disturbed her and as she opened her eyes and blinked in to focus she quickly identified the source.

 

Cullen had awoken and was furiously rummaging through the shelves of potions and salves.

 

“Cullen?” She called out, startling him in to stillness.

 

“I just need a little.” He all but whimpered, refusing to turn and face her.

 

She slowly made her way towards him until they stood side-by-side. She knew she should be keeping a wary distance, but he just sounded so lost.

 

“You don't want it, Cullen.” She soothed, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder.

 

He flinched away from her touch. “But I need it - the pain...”

 

“Cullen.” She spoke a little more authoritatively. “You've worked so hard to beat this - you don't need it.”

 

“How could you possibly know what I need!?” He raged as he turned on her, wrapping a hand around her throat and roughly shoving her back against the shelves. “You have no idea what this feels like.”

 

She tried not to panic, the fact that his grip wasn't compressing her airway completely was a good sign; he could so easily have choked her if he wanted to.

 

She looked him in the eyes, pleadingly. “Cullen, you're not yourself. Let me help you.”

 

He came threateningly close to her face, snarling as he spoke. “Help me? I think you've done enough: I wouldn't even be in this mess if it wasn't for you.”

 

Did he truly believe that?

 

“Do you honestly think I would have been so careless had I not been under your spell?”

 

What could she possibly say to that - when that was also her exact opinion on the matter.

 

She opened her mouth to speak, though had no idea what she was planning to say, when his grip suddenly loosened on her throat. She watched his eyes roll in to the back of his head and had just enough time to save him from all out colliding with the floor as he fainted.

 

But that wasn't the end of it, he began violently convulsing and she had no idea what to do besides shout for help. As she waited for someone to answer her call, she tried to remember anything she'd heard about aiding a seizure.

 

Luckily his pillow was within reach, so she grabbed it and tucked it under his head before turning him on his side. She knew she shouldn't try to restrict his movements too much, but he was jerking so violently that she worried he may hurt himself. All she could do was clear the area around them, kicking and pushing various pieces of equipment and furniture out of the way.

 

“What happened?” An elderly, but surprisingly agile, man demanded.

 

“He fainted.” She immediately responded. “I think he's having a seizure.”

 

“He's too hot.” The man concluded, holding a hand to his forehead. “We need to cool him down - fetch that jug of water and a cloth.”

 

She retrieved the items as instructed, finding on her return that the seizure had thankfully abated. “What now?”

 

“Wipe him down - rinse the cloth as often as possible to keep it cool.”

 

“Where are you going?” She called after him as he stood and strode towards the door.

 

“To get some muscle - don't worry, the worst is over.”

 

“This has happened before?” She called back, but he was already out of earshot.

 

* * *

 

Almost two hours had passed since Cullen's episode. The man, a healer whose name she'd learned was Marcus, had returned soon after disappearing with The Iron bull. Bull helped get Cullen back in to bed and she had reluctantly agreed to let them sedate him again.

 

She hadn't been aware of it at the time, but she'd been injured in the scuffle. Some glass bottles must have broken when he'd shoved her backwards, and she had a nasty gash across the lower half of her ribs. She'd insisted Marcus stitch her up and tell no one about the incident.

 

Despite it all she refused to move from his bedside, his words having hit her hard; she felt she owed him that much. She'd acquired a frost rune from Dagna and was using that to keep a bowl of freezing cold water at his bedside, almost constantly wiping him down to keep him cool. It seemed to be working. His temperature was kept as low as possible to avoid further seizures, the cause of which had been too high a body temperature, according to Marcus.

 

The days that followed seemed to blur in to one; they'd allow him to wake every so often, only to find he was in no better condition than the time before. Cassandra seemed to think the rest would take him past the worst of the withdrawal, but she was beginning to think it was only halting it further.

 

On day eight, she was delighted to be proven wrong - though she was soon to discover her relief would be short lived.

 

“Herald?” A somewhat confused voice stirred her. She'd fallen asleep holding his hand, slumped over the side of his cot.

 

She sat up and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, blinking until her vision cleared. “Cullen!”

 

He was sat up, looking remarkably like himself.

 

“Uh, where am I?” He discreetly slipped his hand from her grip to run his fingers through his hair. “Did I get hypothermia or something?”

 

“Hypothermia?” She parroted. “Why would you - whats the last thing you remember?”

 

He looked away, contemplatively, before coming back to her with an answer. “Uh, I found you in the snow and carried you back to camp.”

 

“That was you?” She smiled, though only until his words really hit home. “Wait, that's really the last thing you remember? Not Skyhold, not the shrine of Dumat, not...”

 

If escaping Haven was the last thing he remembered...then he didn't remember them.

 

She could do nought but stare in stunned silence. Any normal person would have immediately told him of their blossoming relationship, or at least had some kind of involuntary emotional reaction, but she wasn't a normal person.

 

Perhaps it was better this way: at least then he'd be safe from making any more rash decisions that put him in harms way.

 

“Why don't I go get Cassandra and she can fill you in on the details?” She was probably the person he trusted most at this point in his memory.

 

* * *

 

“Well...shit.” Was Dorian's response to the news of Cullen's significant memory loss.

 

“Yeah.” She agreed.

 

“Well, aren't you going to tell him?”

 

“I don't really see how I can.” She regretfully admitted.

 

“What do you mean - why not?”

 

“Cullen was very much like me in the beginning.” She began. “It was only through bizarre and unrepeatable events that he began to see me differently. If I just suddenly announce that we were a thing, I don't see how he'd believe me. I mean, if I put myself in his position I'm not sure I'd believe it. And believing isn't even the half of it - telling him isn't miraculously going to make him remember how he felt.”

 

“But...”

 

Clearly he had no argument. She almost wished he'd have a different take on it, but sadly he didn't.

 

“Shit.” He eventually gave in. “I hadn't considered that.”

 

They sat in contemplative silence for a while.

 

“You at least know he's attracted to you.”

 

“What's your point?”

 

“Why not pursue him anew? It should be relatively easy knowing him as you do.”

 

She grimaced. “Wouldn't that be a bit creepy and weird?”

 

“Yes, I suppose it would.” He exhaled in reluctant agreement.

 

She fell back on her bed, staring up at the canopy. “What should I do, Dorian?”

 

“You're asking me?”

 

She propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. “Nobody knows me as well as you do - certainly not Cullen any more - I trust your judgement.”

 

“Honestly, I think you should just tell him - not necessarily in great detail - and let him decide how he wants to proceed.”

 

“Or,” She countered. “I could just say nothing.”

 

“Sure. If you're prepared for the inevitable backlash when he eventually remembers on his own.”

 

“He may never remember.”

 

“Are you really prepared to just...let him go?”

 

She shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe this is a sign.”

 

“You don't believe in signs.”

 

“Well, then maybe it's just for the best. If he's not distracted by us, he's far less likely to get himself killed.”

 

“So that's what this is really about.” He realised. “You're being a martyr.”

 

“I'm not - that isn't -” She exhaled in defeat. “What if I don't make it out of this alive, Dorian? If I leave things as they are, he'll have no reason to mourn me - or try to be a heroic moron and get himself killed trying to save me.”

 

“And when you both survive and he winds up in someone else's bed?”

 

“Better alive in someone else's bed than dead in the ground.”

 

“You love him.” He smiled, sadly.

 

It wasn't a question, and even if it had been she wouldn't have answered it.

 

“Nobody can tell you what to do, but I think it only fair you tell him - at least before he finds out some other way.”

 

* * *

 

As she made her way down to the infirmary, she was still going back and forth between telling him and not telling him. She hoped when she saw him she'd know what to say.

 

She nodded to the guard stationed outside the infirmary, who unlocked the door then stepped aside to let her in.

 

“Inquisitor.” He immediately greeted. “Or so I'm told.”

 

“I bet that came as quite the surprise.” She laughed, a little nervously.

 

“Just one of many.”

 

“Cassandra filled in the blanks then?”

 

“As much as she could.”

 

“I could have your reports sent down for you to read: your record keeping was meticulous -”

 

“Why can't I read them in my office?” He coldly interrupted.

 

She paused as she tried to gauge his level of annoyance. “It's too soon.”

 

“To resume my duties, perhaps, but why have I been locked in here like a prisoner?”

 

“You're not a prisoner.”

 

“Then why can't I leave?”

 

She hesitated. “We thought it would be safer to wait a while, just to be sure the worst of the withdrawal is over.”

 

“We? Or you?”

 

“You think it was my decision to keep you here?”

 

“You are in charge, are you not?”

 

“Actually, it was a unanimous decision - one to which I reluctantly agreed.”

 

It was almost painful the way he was speaking to her. He really had no idea.

 

“What could I have possibly done to deserve such restrictions? I saved your life, did I not?”

 

She'd hoped he'd never have to know, but it seemed it may be the only thing to make him understand. She wordlessly unfastened her jacket and threw it on to the nearest chair.

 

“You don't remember the first time you woke after being sedated.” She walked closer to him. “I was here with you - you wanted lyrium.” She turned away from him, and slowly lifted her vest to show him her almost-healed scar from that night. “You didn't take kindly to me refusing you.”

 

She heard his startled intake of breath. “I did that to you?”

 

She bit her lip to stifle her own gasp when she felt his fingertips graze her skin. She pulled down her vest and turned to face him again. He looked mortified.

 

“Not intentionally.” She immediately tried to reassure him. “But do you see why we think its safer for you to remain here a while longer?”

 

He slowly nodded. “What must you think of me.”

 

“I think you weren't yourself - but despite that you demonstrated remarkable restraint. I think we both know it could have been much worse.”

 

He stared at his hands in his lap, unable to look at her. “I, uh...have some suggestions for my replacement if you-”

 

“There will be no talk of replacements.” She immediately silenced him. “My father has offered to remain here and help in the mean time, but as soon as you're cleared for duty the job is yours.”

 

He was quite for a moment as he worked up the nerve to look her in the eye. “I never imagined that you of all people would have so much faith in me.”

 

“Yes, well, over the last few months we've...learned to tolerate each other.”

 

 _Coward_.

 

“Well, I'm glad to hear it.” He smiled, and had she allowed herself to look for more than a second she would have melted.

 

“It's late. I should let you rest.” She grabbed her coat and made for the door.

 

“Inquisitor.” He called out, a little nervously.

 

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

 

“Could we perhaps...talk some more - when you have the time?”

 

She nodded, unable to speak for fear of what she might say, then slipped out and watched the guard lock the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

She was lost in her own thoughts as she idly poked at her breakfast, so distracted that she didn't notice her brother and Dorian take a seat on either side of her.

 

“Should we assume from the way you're torturing your food that last nights talk didn't go quite to plan?”

 

“Pardon?” She turned her gaze to Dorian, almost suffering whiplash when Theo began to speak in her other ear.

 

“My guess is she didn't tell him at all.”

 

She covered her face with her hands, clearly wishing this conversation wasn't happening.

 

“I wanted to - it just...wasn't the right time.”

 

“But you _are_ going to try again, right?”

 

She shrugged. “I don't know - maybe.”

 

“Liv...” Her brother pleadingly chastised.

 

“Don't.” She quickly shut him down. “My personal life is not a priority - saving Thedas from certain destruction is.”

 

The pair looked at each other guiltily, unable to argue with her sound logic but also unwilling to agree.

 

“The most important thing is that we all work to the best of our abilities.” She continued. “And when this war is over - provided we succeed - perhaps then he and I will talk.”

 

She dropped her cutlery on to her plate, abandoning her uneaten breakfast.

 

“For now, all he needs to remember is how to be an effective Commander.”

 

She did not care for the sympathetic looks on their faces, excusing herself with the intent to be alone for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: our forgetful Commander has some confusing feelings, not to mention a naughty dream or two.


End file.
